All The World's a Stage
by AngelOfTheMoor
Summary: After Retribution, Horatio, Archie, and Bush spend some time in London.  Horatio's uncle has died under suspicious circumstances, and they investigate.  Also, Archie's family and their relations are explored.  AU.  Formerly titled LONDON CALLING.
1. Miracles

_**Disclaimer: **_The characters from _Horatio __Hornblower _do not belong to me.

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**Chapter One: Miracles**

---_With regards to your shipmates, Mr. __Hornblower__ and Mr. Bush, we feel that it would not be prudent to lodge them during their stay in London. The Good Lord knows that no one values our naval heroes more than Lord Kennedy and I, but it would not be seemly for it to be known that we let sailors stay in our home. We think it would be best to have them over __to dine with us sometime---__your father and I do appreciate everything His Majesty's Navy has done for this nation, and it would be appropriate for us to honor your naval friends. If what you tell your father and I __is__ true, then __Mr. __Hornblower__ and Mr. Bush are indeed veritably__ valorous men.__ Invite them over as soon as feasible once you arrive__ in__ London._

_Your father and I are very well. Jonathan is staying with us in London, learning everything he needs to know to take over once your father---I shudder at the thought__!---__passes away. I am sorry to say that you will not see Matthew during your London visit, for he is seeing to your father's estates while we are in London. Your sister, Lady Anne Davies---how noble that sounds__!---__is in no condition to travel as she gave birth to a son only six months past. I am sure that she would love to see you if you are able to journey to Somerset. Lydia __will not return from her sojourn at the Duke of Markham's estate until five days after you arrive in London. The Duke of Markham has been courting dear Lydia for some time now. I am certain that your sister will receive a proposal very soon!_

_I find myself counting the days until you __are in London. We have not seen you in some years, and my heart rejoices at the thought of seeing you again.  
_

_Yo__ur most affectionate __mother,_

_Lady Catherine Kennedy _

Archie looked up as he finished rereading the letter he had received from his mother the previous week. Once William and he had recovered from their wounds in Kingston, they'd gone directly to Portsmouth. Not long after their arrival in Portsmouth, France and Great Britain had finally achieved a fragile understanding with the Treaty of Amiens. Horatio lost his ship, the _Retribution_ ,in the subsequent downsizing and reunited with Archie and William in Portsmouth. They spent some leisure time together, but then departed for a small village in Surrey in order to call on an old boyhood acquaintance of Archie's. All three of them were also eager to take in the sights of London, so they'd arranged the visit accordingly. Originally, Archie had insisted that they must stay with him in his father's house, but after receiving his mother's letter, he'd had to retract his offer. That had not deterred the good spirits of his friends, however, for which Archie was grateful.

There was nothing but pitch blackness outside of the carriage in which the trio traveled. Archie felt bone weary---the hour was late, and he'd been riding in a carriage for quite some time. He glanced at his two sleeping companions---Horatio was silent and still, while William snored occasionally and shifted in his sleep. He smiled at them both, thankful for everything he had; blew out his candle; and closed his eyes in lethargy.

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Archie stumbled into the courtroom in Kingston, determined to save Horatio from the noose. His wound had drained him of all but a small portion of his energy.; what little that had remained during his convalescence, he had dedicated to convincing William Bush to provide a diversion that kept Horatio from the courtroom for a few minutes. William had argued with him about his plan all last night before acceding to Archie's wishes. After that wearying performance, all he had left was his resolve---and it was his resolve alone that gave him the strength to act now.

He was unsteady on his feet, but sheer determination provided him with the power to do what many would call impossible. As Archie struggled to defy the laws of biology, Commodore Pellew examined a sheaf of papers intently. After a moment, he looked up.

"Mr. Kennedy!" Pellew exclaimed.

"I understand that you have some new testimony for us?" Captain Hammond began the proceedings with, ignoring Pellew's reaction.

"Yes, Captain," Archie slurred. He felt so weak that his voice began to crack. "I was there when Captain Sawyer was pushed down the hold. I know who pushed him."

"And?"

"It was I."

The courtroom erupted into chaos. Many voices filled the air as everyone discussed this strange turn of events. Archie noticed a puzzled expression on Lieutenant Buckland's face and Gunner Hobbs's sharp intake of breath.

"We will have order!" Captain Hammond shouted, but no one heeded his words.

Unexpectedly, Gunner Hobbs stood. "That cannot be!" he yelled.

Captain Hammond raised an eyebrow. "I thought that you had already told this court everything you knew about the affair, Mr. Hobbs?"

Hobbs shook his head. "No, sir, I have not! This trial is a farce! Everyone in this room knows that Captain Sawyer was not in his right mind and that the only reason this trial is taking place is to protect his good name. And you would all sacrifice an innocent young man with a promising career for that! Mr. Hornblower and Mr. Kennedy are fine men, and neither of them would ever intentionally injure their captain. I admired Captain Sawyer, but I know that he has not been himself for quite some time. Those of us who have served under him for many years know it. Especially Dr. Clive!" Hobbs declared, his eyes bolting to Dr. Clive once he'd finished his speech.

"Mr. Hobbs! I will not have such disruptions in this court!" Captain Hammond admonished.

"Captain Hammond, I rather think that we should listen to this man," Captain Collins said. He turned his gaze to Dr. Clive. "Do you wish to reply to Mr. Hobbs's assertions, Dr. Clive?" he asked him.

Dr. Clive sat in stunned silence. His eyes darted between Archie, Mr. Hobbs, and the three judges uncertainly. Archie could sense that Dr. Clive did not know how Captain Collins wished him to respond.

"You should tell us the whole truth," Captain Collins clarified.

After a moment, Dr. Clive gave a curt nod. "Mr. Hobbs is right," he replied hoarsely. "Captain Sawyer was losing his wits. His behavior was often irrational. I tried to treat it the best I could---but after a while, nothing I did worked." He paused to swallow. "It is my opinion that. . .it is my opinion that Captain Sawyer was in such a paranoid state that he precipitated his own fall." These last words came out in a rapid hiss that forced everyone to strain their ears to make them out.

More murmurs broke out in the courtroom. Captain Hammond appeared agitated as he ran his hand through his wig, and Captain Collins's expression was unreadable. But Captain Pellew actually allowed himself a small smile before resuming his formerly neutral expression.

Archie's legs began to tremble from the effort of standing for so long. Suddenly, he heard someone shout his name behind him in a panicked tone. He turned around to see Horatio burst into the room.

"Archie, I won't let you do it!" he called.

"Horatio," Archie answered. A grin spread across his face. "I believe that we are saved," he said in a low voice before his legs gave way. He felt someone's strong hands---he thought they were Horatio's---catch him before his body could strike the floor.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

Archie awoke to find himself once again lying in the bed he occupied in his cell. His eyes blearily registered that two figures stood before him. He thought one of them was Dr. Clive, but he couldn't be sure since his vision was so hazy. He wondered where William was, and if he'd heard the good news yet. Surely the court had acquitted everybody.

"What sort of an idea for treatment is that?!" Dr. Clive asked in a suspicious tone. "How do you expect to do more than exacerbate Mr. Kennedy's injury?!"

"It is a new tactic that I have devised," the unknown figure replied. "You stick this needle into the space near the lung, and it---"

"Do not tell me, sir. It sounds too morbid for me!" Dr. Clive bellowed.

"You are a practitioner of the medical arts," his interlocutor reproached him. "It is the job of people like us to do what we can to alleviate and cure the suffering of others. Now, will you hold Mr. Kennedy down while I operate?"

"I do not know how you expect such a procedure to work," Dr. Clive mumbled as he took a swig of alcohol from the bottle he always carried with him.

Archie thought that the other doctor made a face, but he could not be sure since everything looked so blurry to him. "Everything else has been tried, has it not?" Dr. Clive nodded. "Well, this may be our last chance to save him."

Archie closed his eyes when he saw Dr. Clive approaching him. Dr. Clive's grip on Archie's arms felt unsure and tentative. Archie opened his eyes slightly when he heard the other doctor coming toward him and saw a strange needle closing in on him. Then all was agony.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

When Archie once again set eyes on his cell, both William and Horatio were standing nearby with their backs to him. William turned around and gasped in surprise, causing Horatio to swivel around as well.

"Archie, you're awake!" he observed.

"It's good to see that you are well, Archie," William said.

Archie grinned. "I am glad for that. But how?"

"They brought in a local doctor to look at you, since the naval doctors did not think that they could help you," Horatio explained. "Both Commodore Pellew and Captain Collins insisted that all efforts most be made to keep you alive. They were most impressed with your performance in court." He paused. "You did not need to do that."

"Yes, I did," Archie contended. "There was no need for you to take the blame for something that never occurred. Besides, it all turned out for the best, didn't it?"

"I guess it did."

"Who is this miracle worker of a doctor they found?" Archie asked.

"A man by the name of Baker. He was born in Jamaica in a family of settlers and runs a very small practice here in Kingston. I hear that Commodore Pellew told him that he should go to England so that the doctors there can learn from him, but he insists that he prefers to conduct his life here."

"I would like to send him my compliments," Archie stated. "A rich reward, perhaps."

"Dr. Baker insists that he does not wish to be paid for his services to His Majesty's Navy, as he feels that it is his duty to do all that he can for his country."

"How odd." A momentary lull in the conversation followed this remark.

"Once you are able to walk, you can come stay with us at the inn," William suggested.

"With you, you mean," Horatio corrected him in a serious tone.

"Why, what do you mean, Horatio?" William inquired.

"I have been promoted to commander," Horatio answered. "And given a commission for the _H.M.S. Retribution_."

"Congratulations!" William said enthusiastically.

"Yes, Horatio, that is good news," Archie agreed while he wondered why Horatio had been given preference over William. No doubt Horatio deserved his appointment, but William deserved one as well. Luckily, this turn of events did not seem to have put a dint on the friendship that had developed between the three of them.

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Immersed in his dreams, Archie was suddenly startled into consciousness when he felt someone jostle him. He looked up to see Horatio's serious, wide awake face staring at him.

"Oh, hello, Horatio," Archie yawned.

"We've arrived in London, Archie," Horatio informed him. "The driver would like to know where to take us. Do you know of any inns of good reputation that William and I could afford to patronize?"

Still groggy, Archie nodded. "Tell him to take you to the Twins," he answered. He glanced at William, who also appeared not to be fully alert yet. Then he chanced a look out of the carriage window and observed the purple-blue haze of a sky on the cusp of night and day. _It's so pretty at this time_, he thought. _So magnificent, awe-inspiring---pure bliss._

"The Twins, sirs," the driver announced once he'd stopped. Horatio descended first from the carriage, followed by William and Archie. All three of them surveyed the neat wooden trim of the two-storied inn and the sign which proclaimed the name of the inn on the background of an oak tree.

William frowned. "Why does it have a tree as its symbol?"

Archie shrugged. "I don't know. No doubt it has something to do with its history." He paused as he contemplated the figures of his best friends affectionately. "Well, I will leave you two for now. I'll be sure to call on you either tonight or tomorrow and extend an invitation to dine with my family."

"Good-bye, Archie," Horatio said.

"I look forward to meeting these famous Kennedys you've been telling us about," William declared with a twinkle in his eye.

"Good-bye, Horatio, William," Archie called as he stepped back into the carriage.

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_**Author's Not**__**es: **_So, this is my second attempt at a Hornblower fanfic, and my first attempt at a long one. I won't be able to update as often as I'd like since I'm pretty busy, though I'll try to post something at least every week or two (unless things get too hectic for me). It is also likely that I may encounter a spell of writer's block during this process. 

I didn't really get to the plot proper in this first chapter because I wanted to include some backstory so that the plot which follows is somewhat feasible. I probably won't get to it until Chapter 3, though I will start including the sub-plots for the story in Chapter 2. Most of this story will be told from Archie's POV, but there may be some bits from an OC's or Bush's POV.

The technique which Dr. Baker uses to treat Archie's injury is a primitive form of thoracentesis, which is not mentioned in historical record until 1852. Its appearance in my story, then, is an anachronism. My excuse for including it is that if someone in a location such as Jamaica had first used that method many years earlier, no one would know about it if talk of the incident wasn't widely circulated.

If you read this, please leave a review and let me know what you think!


	2. Meet the Kennedys

**_Disclaimer_**: The characters from _Horatio __Hornblower_ do not belong to me.

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** Chapter Two: Meet the Kennedys**

When the carriage arrived at his family's London home, Archie bounded out of it and walked toward the front door. He hesitated for a moment, suddenly unsure of himself. He hadn't been home in such a long time that he was afraid many things would seem foreign to him. He certainly didn't remember that the house possessed such splendor; it was a huge white affair with thick Ionic columns. When Archie had finally regained his composure, he knocked on the door.

One of the family servants, a tall, thin, brown-haired woman in her early thirties, promptly answered it. Her name was on the tip of his tongue, but he couldn't quite place her.

"Master Archibald!" she exclaimed with a wide smile. "It's been so long since we've seen you."

There! He remembered her name! "Delila," he said. She was the daughter of his boyhood nanny. Even though she was older than him, they'd occasionally spent time together as children. "It's good to see you again."

"Come inside, Master Archibald. I'll show you to the parlor." Archie moved to pick up his belongings. "Don't worry about your things, sir," Delila said. "Lucas will get them for you."

Well, things truly had changed. When he'd left for his berth as a midshipman, Delila had never addressed him as "Master Archibald." And he wasn't used to having people cater to him, either---but that was a respect in which he'd changed.

Once Delila had led Archie to the parlor, she left him there alone. He glanced around at the opulent furnishings, and memories of his childhood came unbidden to his mind.

"Archibald!" a female voice squealed behind him, jolting him out of his thoughts. He turned and found himself face to face with his mother. His eyes drank her in---the kind face furnished with good-natured brown eyes, the brown hair interspersed with gray, the tasteful dress.

"I can't believe it's really you!" she cried as she enveloped him in a tight embrace. She pulled back quickly and stared at him for a moment. Her eyes told him that something was wrong---then he realized that he was standing as stiffly as if he were in the presence of a captain. He immediately relaxed his posture, and his eyes swelled with tears.

"Mother," he murmured. He hugged her again, this time for a much longer period, as the tears freely leaked from his eyes. He could feel his mother's gentle sobs.

"I think your father and Jonathan should be down any minute," she informed him once they'd both composed themselves.

"How've you been?" he asked her after a few moments of silence in an effort to make conversation.

"We've been---very well," his mother replied as she licked her lips nervously. Her eyes sparkled once again with emotion. "You don't know how happy I am to see you again."

"It's good to see you, too, Mother."

"Archibald," someone uttered in a soft tone that floated ominously into the parlor. Startled, both Archie and his mother turned to see Jonathan standing in the doorway. Lady Kennedy stood up and moved toward him.

"Isn't it great to have him home, Jonathan?" she gushed.

"Quite," Jonathan intoned in that quiet, cold way of his. Archie continued to study him in puzzlement. Jonathan's build was tall and lanky, and he carried himself in an austere manner. His hair was the same golden shade as Archie's, but his light brown eyes, as well as his face, resembled the authoritative Lord Kennedy in every way--if anything, his features were more imperious when compared with those of their father. Although Jonathan had always been a serious boy, Archie didn't remember him possessing such characteristics.

"Do you know, Archibald, that I've been urging Jonathan to marry for some time? But he never seems satisfied with any of the young ladies!" Lady Kennedy told him, flashing a broad grin.

"Mother, please," Jonathan muttered in an irritated tone. If Lady Kennedy found something amiss in Jonathan's behavior, she did not show it.

"Seeing you after all these years, Archibald, is really something," Jonathan pronounced in a dispassionate voice.

"Glad to see you, too, Jonathan," Archie replied in a cordial tone. He smiled at Jonathan in an attempt to coax him out of his steely manner.

"Where is your father?" Lady Kennedy asked her eldest son.

"He said he had some urgent business to tend to. No doubt he'll be back soon," Jonathan shrugged.

"Well, I hope so!" She paused. "I think I'll go see if Delila can't fetch us something to eat."

"So, how is His Majesty's Royal Navy, Archibald?" Jonathan asked in a casual tone---a casual tone behind which Archie thought he detected a hint of malice.

"I enjoy it very much." Archie paused to let his eyes sweep over the room. "I'm afraid I'm not used to all of this anymore."

"That's understandable. I hear that you and your fellow lieutenants were part of some ignominious attempt at mutiny," Jonathan sneered.

Archie's heart sank, but he was determined not to let his smile falter. "There was no mutiny. The captain had an unfortunate accident. Nothing dishonorable in that."

"I should think not."

"Look who I've found!" Lady Kennedy exclaimed as she led her husband into the room, breaking the icy tension between her sons.

"Archibald!" Lord Kennedy called, delighted. He was a little plumper than Archie remembered, and his hair was now wholly gray, but everything else about him was just as he recalled. "Stand up! I want to have a good look at you, boy!"

Archie obeyed Lord Kennedy's command, feeling somewhat embarrassed under his father's intent gaze. He wondered whether he would win Lord Kennedy's approval.

"You look fine, dear boy!" he announced. "A dashing lieutenant! I must tell you that I am very curious about these fellow officers of yours you're always praising in your letters. You must invite them over for dinner very soon!"

"Yes! You must!" Lady Kennedy echoed.

"I will as soon as I can, Father."

"Good! I cannot wait to meet them," Lord Kennedy replied.

"Neither can I," Jonathan declared in a frosty voice.

Jonathan's manner disturbed Archie, but he soon forgot any worries he had once he'd settled into an earnest conversation with his parents and shared a meal with them.

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"What gallant figures you two make!" Archie teased as a wide grin spread across his face. William, who already looked uncomfortable in his dress uniform, seemed embarrassed by Archie's comment; Horatio, who, a moment ago, had looked proud as he always did in his modest way, lowered his eyes.

"Archie, you _are _incorrigible!" Horatio chastised him. Archie could tell that he was struggling to regain his former manner. And, of course, he soon succeeded.

Archie surveyed the room which his comrades shared. It was of a modest size, but that suited his friends' needs. The walls were bare and well-maintained. There were two small beds on the far side of the room, one in each corner. A simple dresser fashioned out of oak with a washbasin reposing on top of it and a mirror on the wall above it stood in between the beds. A simple desk with a wooden chair was situated in the corner across from the doorway, near which Archie casually leaned against the wall. His friends' trunks were next to that desk. And there was William, who looked very nervous about the upcoming dinner engagement. And there was Horatio, who had an air of restrained excitement about the affair.

"Well, are you ready to leave?" Archie asked them.

"I believe that we are," Horatio replied. After a moment of hesitation, William nodded his assent.

"There is a carriage waiting outside for us. My family sent it." Archie blushed slightly with the last statement. Sometimes the differences in social backgrounds between his friends and him made him self-conscious. Even though he knew better, he sometimes imagined that his status as a lord's son led men to brand him as a snob behind his back.

"You must thank them for us, Archie," Horatio said. "Let us leave, then. I do not wish to keep the driver waiting."

Initially, Archie led the way downstairs. However, he soon let Horatio overtake him; luckily, Horatio, who would've felt abashed at arriving at the Kennedys' carriage before Archie, did not notice this turn of events, as he was ensconced in his own thoughts. Archie desired to have a word with William, who seemed to be suffering from an attack of insecurity.

"Don't worry, William," he whispered. "They'll like you."

"How---how can you be so sure?" William stammered.

"There's no reason for them not to," Archie replied, gazing into William's pale blue eyes seriously.

William still seemed unsure about the impending meeting with the Kennedys, but Archie could do nothing more to calm those fears. William's anxieties would not disappear until William and his family spoke to each other.

"Good afternoon, sirs," the driver, Jack, told them once they were outside. He held the door open as they entered the carriage. Archie could tell that such treatment baffled Horatio and made William uncomfortable, but there was nothing he could do about that. The driver would be offended if he told him to desist from offering his customary courtesies.

Once they were inside the carriage, William surveyed the sumptuous upholstery before directing his eyes to his lap. Archie always found it hard to read his eyes, and he wished he could tell what thoughts the carriage's interior had spurned in William's mind. Horatio also examined his surroundings assiduously, but his eyes were for more expressive than Bush's. They changed expressions in what seemed to be milliseconds; first, they were wide and overwhelmed, then awed, then approving, then admiring.

"This is---nice, Archie," Horatio commented. If anything, Horatio's manner seemed more puffed up than it had at the inn. However, Archie was all too familiar with Horatio's demeanor, and he detected an underlying note of apprehension that had developed since entering the carriage. Archie wanted to dissolve that tension, but he didn't know how to do it effectively. Still, he tried.

"It's doesn't seem of the same species as the one that brought us to London, does it?" Archie said in a light-hearted tone. Horatio laughed feebly, and William smiled briefly before resuming his formerly neutral countenance.

And that was that. No one else spoke a word until they arrived at his family's house. It was so unnerving that even Archie, who had been eagerly anticipating this day, began to have doubts himself.

If sight of the carriage had caused his friends to stare momentarily, sight of the mansion prompted them to gape. After they'd gazed at it for a long time, Archie led them to the door, where they met Lucas, who showed them to the parlor. There, the Kennedys were waiting.

Lucas announced the guests, calling, "Captain Horatio Hornblower, Lieutenant William Bush." Afterward, he left the room, leaving the trio alone with his employers.

Archie introduced the two parties to each other. "Horatio, William, this is Lord Daniel Kennedy, my father. Jonathan Kennedy, my brother. And Lady Catherine Kennedy, my mother."

"How do you do, milady?" Horatio asked his mother.

"Very well, thank you, Mr. Hornblower. And you?"

Horatio glanced at Bush for a fraction of a second before replying. "Very well, milady."

"We are pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush," Lord Kennedy said.

"And we are pleased to make yours, milord."

Bush inclined his head to both Lord and Lady Kennedy. "I am honored to be in your presence, milord, milady."

"Thank you," Lady Kennedy responded.

"We are glad to meet you as well," Horatio said to Jonathan as Bush nodded his agreement.

"As am I," Jonathan replied. "You have no idea how long I've been waiting to finally have the chance to meet you, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush." Despite his words, there was no warmth in his voice, but Archie had become used to that over the past couple of days. However, he was worried about the impression that Jonathan's tone would make on his friends---William especially, since he already felt so out of place.

Delila came into the parlor to announce that the food was ready, and the party moved to the dining room. Lord Kennedy was seated at the head of the table with his wife to his right. Jonathan sat next to her with Archie to his other side. Horatio was seated across from Jonathan with William to his right. Then, the first course was served.

"Mr. Hornblower, I have heard that you were very recently promoted to master and commander and given a good ship. Why did you lose your ship?" Lord Kennedy inquired.

"Father," Archie interjected, his face slightly reddening at the stupidity of Lord Kennedy's question. "They don't call them that anymore. The title is merely 'commander' now."

"Oh, pardon my ignorance, if you don't mind, Mr. Hornblower. I am a not a man of the Navy, you see, so sometimes the right terms elude me." Archie noticed that a small sardonic, bemused smile bloomed on Jonathan's face and wondered whether it was directed at his father or him.

Horatio blushed. "It is no matter, milord. I believe the change was fairly recent." He paused before he answered the question. "Now that the war with the French is over, the Navy does not have need of all of its ships. Recently promoted commanders and captains were those who had their ships taken away."

"I think I understand what you mean, Mr. Hornblower. That is to say, your ship was taken away because of your youth, not because of any lack of skill on your part." Horatio blushed once again. "Is that right?"

"That's right, Father," Archie said. He knew that his friend was too modest to agree with his father's statement, and he didn't think that his father wanted to hear the self-effacements that Horatio liked to voice.

"What is your opinion on our peace with the French, Mr. Hornblower?" Jonathan posited in a cold monotone. "Do you think that it will last?" Archie wished that he could read the intent behind his brother's words.

"Frankly, I am not sure if there is enough strength in the terms of the Treaty of Amiens for the peace to endure for very long," Horatio expounded. "I have been told by an acquaintance of mine in the Admiralty that the French secretly continue their intrigue against us. And that we do the same on our side." Horatio lowered his eyes, embarrassed at what he'd just let slip out of his mouth. "Of course, all of that information is strictly confidential."

"Indeed," Jonathan echoed.

"You have a friend in the Admiralty, Mr. Hornblower. Very impressive," Lord Kennedy said.

"Archie knows him, too, milord. We served under him together."

"What about you, Mr. Bush? Do you know this man in the Admiralty of whom Mr. Hornblower speaks?" Jonathan asked in his dispassionate voice.

Archie thought that he saw William flinch slightly at the mention of his name, but he wasn't sure if that was a product of his imagination. In any event, William seemed surprised at being addressed. "No, Mr. Kennedy," William replied. "I did not meet Horatio and Archie until I served on the _Renown_."

"Was that the ship involved in that sensational trial you were a part of, Archibald?" Archie's face turned a bright shade of red. He was sure that Jonathan knew the answer to his own question and that it was rude to voice it in front of Archie's comrades. An uneasy silence settled upon the table. He could tell that his parents were appalled at Jonathan's words as well.

"Well, Mr. Bush, what do you think about the peace with France?" Lady Kennedy said in an attempt to break the strain.

William flicked his eyes to Horatio in a short sidelong glance before replying. "I cannot say that I am as well-informed as Horatio, milady. If what he says is true, then we may find ourselves at war again very soon."

"What a pity!" Lady Kennedy sighed. "And I would be deprived of my dearest Archibald once again when that occurs."

Archie blushed; he had no idea how to respond to his mother's sentiments. Jonathan laughed softly to himself, but luckily, he made sure that no one but Archie could hear him. Suddenly, he heard a loud clatter. He turned away from Jonathan in time to see that William had dropped his fork.

"I am sorry, milady," William apologized. "I'll pick that up." He bent down to retrieve the fork, but in the process, he managed to upset the plate in front of him, spilling its contents to the floor.

"Milady, I am sincerely sorry," William repeated as the color rose to his cheeks. Both Lord and Lady Kennedy looked horrified, but Jonathan was actually smiling for once, though the smile seemed anything but harmless. Horatio found something interesting on his plate and stared at it intently.

"It is nothing, Mr. Bush," Lady Kennedy said. "I will call Delila in to clean it up. It is time for her to bring in the next course, anyway."

After Delila had cleared the mess and the remnants of the first course, she brought in a huge plate with a roasted suckling pig on it. When she left the room, Lady Kennedy turned to William.

"Would you do us the honor of carving it, Mr. Bush?" Although William's expression would've been inscrutable to anyone else, Archie detected his mortification.

Sadly, the dinner was turning out to be a disaster. What was his mother thinking, asking William to do that after the _faux pas _he'd just committed? Archie didn't blame William in the least for the accident---it had obviously resulted from an attack of nerves---but if William was having such difficulties, why ask him to complete such an important task? Was she trying to provide William with a means to redeem himself? Archie was not going to idly sit by while William felt like he was being made a fool of, however; so, he stood up.

"Mother, I wish to carve the suckling," he said.

Lady Kennedy blinked. "I do not wish to deprive Mr. Bush of the privilege, Archibald. Please, won't you sit down."

Archie did so, although unhappily. It appeared that there was nothing he could do. He looked at Horatio for a moment and was surprised to see that he seemed baffled by Archie's actions. Did he not perceive the situation? _Of course not_, Archie thought to himself. _Horatio is by no means selfish, but he does have a tendency to remain firmly planted in his own world._

Lady Kennedy handed William the knife, and he stood still for a moment before attempting to proceed. His hand was shaking, albeit almost imperceptibly. He cut the first piece haltingly and offered it to Lady Kennedy. She did not eat much of it, though, as she was too busy watching William complete the carving. He was having a hard time accomplishing the task. Before he was done, Archie noticed that both of his parents wore an expression of distaste, though it was subtle enough to go undetected by Horatio and William, he thought. Jonathan's smile grew wider, and if anything, Horatio appeared to be jealous of William.

"Thank you very much, Mr. Bush," Jonathan said in a polite but indifferent tone when he was handed his piece after Lord Kennedy was handed his. Horatio flashed William a hearty grin once he received his share. When he handed Archie his meat, Archie tried to catch William's eye and convey his sympathy to him, but he wasn't sure if his attempt was successful.

Once everyone had finished eating, Lord Kennedy proposed that they retire to the parlor once more. When they entered the parlor, Jonathan spoke.

"Would anyone like to play a game of whist?" he inquired. "Mr. Bush?"

William smiled sheepishly. "I am afraid that I am not a skilled player, Mr. Kennedy. I would like to merely observe, if you don't mind."

"Mr. Hornblower?"

Horatio perked up at the mention of whist. "Gladly, Mr. Kennedy."

"Father? Archibald? Would you care to complete our game?"

Both Lord Kennedy and Archie agreed to join the game. The four of them drew for partners.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow at the results. "It seems that you are to be my partner, Mr. Hornblower." He dealt the cards, and Lord Kennedy led the first round. Jonathan glanced down to see who'd won the first trick and commented "Interesting choice, Mr. Hornblower." Horatio had the lowest card first round, and Archie the highest; thus, he won the first trick. Archie had no illusions about his skill at whist, however; he was merely an average player. But Horatio was brilliant at this game. He wondered how that would impact Jonathan's opinion of Horatio.

After the first hand, the pairs were tied at one apiece. The game continued for quite a while.

At one point during the second hand, Jonathan's eyes widened when he noticed which cards had been played. Horatio had won this trick, and he apparently saw something noteworthy in Horatio's methods. Jonathan gave him a surprised, pleased look; it was the first time Archie had seen any positive emotion in his brother since he'd returned home. "Good play, Mr. Hornblower," he complimented.

As usual, Horatio cloaked himself in modesty; he looked ill-at-ease with the praise. "Thank you, Mr. Kennedy."

By the end of the game, Horatio and Jonathan had won a resounding victory.

"Good game, Mr. Hornblower!" Jonathan exclaimed.

"You are an excellent player yourself, Mr. Kennedy," Horatio replied with pleasure. And Archie realized that it was true: both Jonathan and Horatio were equally skillful at the game.

Horatio noticed the time when he chanced a look at the grandfather clock in the parlor. "It is getting late," he observed. "Mr. Bush and I should take our leave."

"I'll have Jack prepare the carriage for you," Lady Kennedy said.

"There's no need for that, milady. We do not wish to impose upon you."

"Oh, I insist!"

Lucas came to escort William and Horatio out of the room once the carriage was ready.

"Goodbye, milord, milady, Mr. Kennedy," Horatio said. "I thank you for a wonderful time."

"And I as well. Goodbye, milord, milady. Mr. Kennedy," William said.

William and Horatio told Archie goodbye, too, then departed. Once they had left, Archie spoke, for something still rankled him. "Mother, why did you ask William to carve the suckling?"

She shrugged. "I wanted to see if I had judged him correctly."

Archie was puzzled. "Whatever do you mean, Mother?"

"I mean that your Mr. Bush is uncouth. Low-born with no manners."

"But he's my friend, and you embarrassed him. He didn't mean to disrupt the meal."

"I have no doubt that he didn't, but that wasn't what convinced me of his character. Did you notice the way he comported himself?"

"Your mother is quite right, Archibald," Lord Kennedy cut in. "I don't begrudge you such friends; I know that you must associate with people of his ilk in the Royal Navy. That cannot be helped. But that doesn't mean we have to approve of them."

"I must say, I quite liked that Hornblower fellow," Jonathan opined, changing the subject.

"Now, he was a fine man!" Lord Kennedy agreed. "He had good manners."

"Yes, he certainly wasn't uncouth," Lady Kennedy said.

Again, Archie was reminded of the gulf that had developed between his family and him since his enlistment in the Royal Navy. Their hasty judgment of William saddened him. The truth was that his family and he belonged to different strata now, and nothing would change that.

* * *

**_Author's Notes_**: So, I still haven't gotten to the mystery yet. It will begin in Chapter Three. Here, I wanted to establish the basics of some relationships. 

I know that Bush's fear of visiting the Kennedys in this chapter conflicts with the excitement he voiced at the end of the first chapter, but sometimes people are excited about upcoming events, then they dread them because they become nervous. That's what happened with Bush.

I am not sure if I used the correct forms of address between characters here. I am also not sure about whether I portrayed the whist game correctly, and I know that the whist game seems too vague. I read the rules of whist, but I still don't think I understand them, so I couldn't make the game as suspenseful as I wished to make it.

Also, I know that Horatio may be shown in a slightly unfavorable light in this chapter, but he's a flawed individual. Besides, I don't mean anything about him here to sound negative, but I understand how some might think it does. There'll be more facets of his personality shown as the story progresses.

I don't think that this is my best writing. But then again, I've always been better at plot formulation than plot execution. In any event, if you read this, please review and let me know how I'm doing! If you've already left a review for me, thank you, thank you! I appreciate the comments very much!


	3. Obadiah Prescott, Accountant

_**Disclaimer: **_The characters from _Horatio __Hornblower_ do not belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter Three: Obadiah Prescott, Accountant**

The morning after that miserable failure of a dinner, Archie prepared to visit his friends at the Twins. He wondered what they would say about last night, if they mentioned it at all. _William probably doesn't want to recount his humiliations_, he thought, _but Horatio seemed to enjoy himself. That whist game. . . Jonathan actually appeared to be genuinely pleased for once. _He wished he knew why Jonathan was so cold to him. _Not just to me, though. He speaks like that to __everyone.__ . .even Mother and Father._ Did his parents not notice that Jonathan's mannerisms were not that of a normal man? And was Jonathan's manner merely cold, or were there threatening intentions behind his demeanor? He could never be sure; his brother was an enigma to him.

Archie wanted to walk to the inn, but he knew that his parents would insist that he use the carriage if they saw him depart. A stroll would provide him with the opportunity to freely indulge in his thoughts and take in London properly, which he hadn't been able to do yet. Since his parents were otherwise occupied, now would be the perfect time to leave. His father was taking care of business elsewhere, and his mother was writing letters to Anne and Matthew, after which she planned to make sure everything was in order for Lydia's return tomorrow.

_Lydia.__ I haven't__ seen her in such a long time. How many years? __Ever since __I've__ j__oined the Navy, anyway.__ But she's __grown __up now. __Nineteen.__ And practically engaged to be married, if what __Mother tells me is true._

Archie had his hand on the doorknob when a soft noise from behind caused him to jump. Someone laughed quietly. That laugh---something about it was unnatural. Archie turned halfway and met Jonathan's eyes---puzzling, unreadable eyes.

"Where are you off to, Archibald?" he asked in his characteristically cool voice.

"To visit Horatio and William."

"Oh." Jonathan continued to stare at him in his glacial way as silence reigned for what felt like an eternity.

Finally, Archie could bear his uneasiness no longer. "Is there something wrong with that, Jonathan?" he asked in a more challenging tone than he'd intended.

Jonathan shrugged laconically. "Not at all, Archibald. I just wondered whether you wished to take the carriage."

Archie shook his head. "I do not need it. It is not a great distance to walk."

Jonathan shrugged again. "Suit yourself. Good-bye, Archibald."

"Good-bye." Confused, Archie descended the steps and continued on his way. Surely that exchange with Jonathan had not merely been about the carriage? Jonathan had seemed anything but solicitous.

Archie surveyed the city as he continued to ponder the things about his family which he didn't know. Jonathan certainly hadn't always been as dispassionate and cold as he was now. The Jonathan who lived in Archie's memory and the one he saw now were only tangentially the same, united only in their seriousness. The Jonathan he remembered was earnest in a well-meaning way and, though not an emotional person, had moments of happiness. Since his return, the only time he'd seen a faint reflection of contentment in Jonathan had been during the whist game last night. Even then, the small grin Jonathan had flashed at Horatio had seemed only a faint shadow of the brilliant smile he recalled Jonathan possessing in the past.

When he'd left his family for the Navy, Jonathan had been a young man, and very handsome according to the gossip of the day. As the heir to the Kennedy title and fortune, he'd been rated a hot commodity by mothers who wished to procure a good marriage for their daughters.

But even then, Jonathan had not been one who enjoyed the company of ladies. Oh, he'd certainly look, and occasionally one would catch his eye, but he hadn't been keen to marry anytime soon.

But if what his mother told him was correct, Jonathan didn't even do so much as that anymore. He rarely conversed with young women, and he avoided dancing at most of the balls, choosing to sit in an isolated corner for the duration.

And Jonathan, though he had fine features, wasn't nearly as good-looking as he'd once been. The personality behind the physical mask imbued Jonathan's countenance with a slightly macabre, bitter quality which detracted from his naturally pleasant appearance.

Why? What had occurred to change Jonathan so? If he asked his mother or father, would either of them tell him? Would either of them know?

Well, Archie could only speculate on that. He didn't want to ask his parents about the matter, for he believed that if they found it important, they would come to him with an explanation without solicitation. At any rate, perhaps they didn't know. After all, what parent knew everything about his or her children's lives?

If Jonathan had changed so much, Archie could only imagine how altered Lydia would be. There would definitely be a difference between the current Lydia and the one he'd known before leaving for the _Justinian_.

What manner of a man was the Duke of Markham? Was he really as close to Lydia as his mother had intimated? Was he in love with her? A connection with a duke would certainly be an advantageous match for Lydia. And the family. But what was the duke's reason for considering someone below his station for a wife?

Those were probably questions he'd never have the full answers to, but partial answers might come once he'd met the Duke of Markham. He wondered whether he was a frequent guest at the family's home. And how he'd begun courting Lydia. Archie hoped to see the duke soon after his return to London so that he could take measure of him.

"Pears! Come get your juicy pears! Sir! Would you like to purchase a pear?" a hawker screeched from his left, interrupting his thoughts. As soon as he realized that the shrill woman was speaking to him, he had no choice but to stop and give her his attention.

The woman who stood behind a small wooden booth was a pitiful sight. He estimated that she was in her mid-forties, though she could easily have been much older or younger. Her long brown hair was bedraggled, her eyes were sunken in their pouches, and most of her teeth were missing. And she gazed at him in a way that he found vaguely familiar.

"Sir? Would you like to purchase a pear?" she repeated.

Archie dug around in his bag for a few pence, then extended the hand which held the coins in her direction. "Is this sufficient?" he asked.

Her eyes went wide as she nodded. "Yes, sir." She picked one of the pears out of her basket and handed it to him. "Thank you, sir," she said tentatively.

As he continued on his way to the Twins, Archie bit into the fruit and found that it was surprisingly delectable. As juicy as the woman had advertised. Archie continued to eat his pear, savoring every morsel. He felt a small rivulet of juice trickle down his lip to his chin, but he didn't bother to wipe it away. When he arrived at the last bite, he closed his eyes as he reveled in the fruit's heavenly taste.

When he opened his eyes, he found himself staring into a young woman's dark brown eyes; they were completely focused on the liquid on his chin.

Archie swiftly scrubbed his chin with his wrist and glanced up to see her eyes shifting away from him nervously.

"Pardon me, sir," she uttered, reddening. "I. . .I have no excuse. . . .I. . ."

"It is no matter, miss," Archie replied. They both stood there for a second, unsure of what to do. Finally, without a word, Archie moved past her and traversed the remaining distance to the Twins.

He briefly greeted the innkeeper, a plump, good-natured woman who recognized him since he visited his friends frequently, then ascended the stairs. He paused at the door for a moment to gather his bearings before he knocked.

"Hello, Archie," Horatio said when he opened the door. William, who was bent over a letter at the desk, didn't deign to look up as his pen scratched frantically on the paper's surface.

"Hello, Horatio." He examined his comrade's face, which was as closed up as usual. _He is like Jonathan, in a sense. They both never show any emotion. _But he knew that there was a difference between the two. Jonathan's demeanor was subtly malicious, whereas Horatio's was born out of a sense of modesty---or, more accurately, humility. It never ceased to amaze him that Horatio could underestimate himself as much as he did.

William threw his pen into the inkwell and raised his eyes to Archie in embarrassment. "I'm sorry that I didn't see you come in, Archie. I'm afraid I was preoccupied."

"It is nothing, William," Archie replied. "Who're you writing to?"

"His sisters," Horatio responded before William had a chance to speak. William, who'd pursed his lips open to answer the question, pressed his lips back together quickly. Archie's eyes jumped between the two of them, for their behavior, trivial as it seemed, puzzled him. Then again, Horatio had never possessed much in the way of social skills.

"Your sisters," Archie said in a bantering tone. "How charming." William blushed, but he also flashed Archie a small smile in order to let him know that he understood his intentions were good-natured.

"Oh, Archie, you truly are terrible, you know!" Horatio exclaimed, very noble, as usual, in his defense of his friend---but clueless as to William's true reaction.

Archie smiled in an effort to alleviate the tension he felt radiating from Horatio. "Horatio, you know that I'm merely teasing!" He turned to William. "I really do think that it's wonderful that you take the time to write to your sisters. Not many men are as assiduous in their familial duties."

William smiled. "Thank you, Archie."

"Speaking of sisters, my youngest sister is returning home tomorrow," Archie told them.

"That is good news!" Horatio asserted. "How long has it been since you've seen her?"

Archie closed his eyes, attempting to remember how many years it'd been since his last glimpse of Lydia, but he was unable to recall the answer. He opened his eyes and shook his head. "I don't know. It's just been---so long."

They were quiet for a few moments until William ventured a question. "Is this sister the one you told us about? Betrothed to a duke?"

Archie nodded, touched that William remembered that detail, as he'd only mentioned the letter from his mother once to Horatio and William. "Yes, that's Lydia. But she's not engaged to a duke. At least not yet."

"But she will be."

Archie shrugged. "I assume so."

"Do you know anything of him? What sort of a man is he?"

Archie shrugged again. "If only I knew." To his surprise, he detected a note of doubt in his voice. Why would that be? He knew nothing about the Duke of Markham. Could it be that he felt so protective of Lydia that he was afraid of what would happen to her if she married?

"Come! I'm sure he's a fine man!" Horatio broke in. "I believe that your family has sound judgment, Archie. They seem to me to be people of the best sort. They would not let their daughter associate with anyone who could possess any serious flaws."

Archie frowned. "I suppose that you are right."

"I think that I would like to visit them again sometime, if they'd have me. I liked them very much. And Mr. Kennedy is a most pleasant fellow to play whist with. Didn't you find them to be excellent people, William?"

Could Horatio really be that dense? He thought that his family had clearly behaved rudely toward William; but maybe Horatio had missed some of the Kennedys' behavioral nuances because he wasn't as acquainted with the them as Archie was.

William nodded curtly. "Yes, they were quite pleasant." Archie knew that William lied, but he couldn't blame him for not voicing how horrifying the experience of yesterday had been for him.

"Well, I must call on my uncle," Horatio announced. "Do you wish to accompany me?" William nodded.

"Yes, I think I should like to meet your uncle," Archie replied. "Where does he live?"

"We are visiting him at his office, not his home," Horatio countered. "He owns an accounting business. That is where we will find him."

Archie raised an eyebrow mischievously. "Does this uncle have a name?"

Horatio grinned. "Obadiah Prescott." He paused. "Are we ready to leave?"

William snatched the letter from the table and stuffed it into an envelope. "I should take this to a carrier while we are out."

The trio descended the stairs, exchanged a few words with the innkeeper, and stepped outside to find the sun shining brightly, a rarity in London.

They found an office for letter delivery not far from the inn. William went in alone to tend to his business while Horatio and Archie waited outside.

"How close are you to this uncle of yours, Horatio?" Archie asked, for he had never heard of Obadiah Prescott in all the years he'd known his friend.

"I barely know him," Horatio replied. "When I was a child, we'd visit him any time we came to London, which we hardly ever ventured to do." He paused. "But he's my only living relative."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Horatio." He remembered hearing of Horatio's mother's death shortly after they'd been released from the Spanish prison in Ferrol. Then, once they'd returned to England after that fool's errand in Quiberon, Horatio had learned that his father breathed no more. That, combined with the death of a French woman of whom he'd become fond, had torn at Horatio for no small amount of time, and Archie had found himself playing the role of comforter.

"Such is life, I presume," Horatio brooded. At that moment, William stepped out of the office.

"Did you take care of everything?" Archie inquired.

"Yes, but the cost was so damnably high."

The three of them made easy conversation while they continued on their way to Obadiah Prescott's office and stopped for sights which intrigued them. Soon, they found themselves laughing giddily. Archie thought that it was one of the happiest times he'd had in a long while.

Finally, they arrived at their destination, an old brick building with a faded appearance. A plate on the wall beside the door read: OBADIAH PRESCOTT, ACCOUNTANT. Below the first name was another: RICHARD HAZE, ASSISTANT. Horatio pulled the door open, and they entered.

The room was tiny, and the floor was dusty. Archie wondered how anyone could breathe in such a place for any extended period of time. Behind a small desk, a man with a stooped back, glasses, and a graying ring of hair surrounding his bald pate scribbled ferociously. A candle on the desk added to the feeble light which drifted in from the minuscule window above his head. He guessed that this man was Obadiah Prescott.

The man did not seem to have noticed their presence, so Horatio cleared his throat loudly, which startled the man so much that he jumped and dropped his pen with a deafening thud.

"May I help you, sir?" he asked. Did the man not recognize his own nephew? Well, it had been some time since he'd seen him, Archie supposed.

"I am looking for Obadiah Prescott," Horatio replied. "Do you know where I can find him?" The man wasn't his uncle, then. Archie felt sheepish for coming to a hasty conclusion.

The man narrowed his eyes. "Do you know Mr. Prescott, sir?"

"Yes. He is my uncle."

"Oh!" the man exclaimed in an abashed tone. "I am so sorry, dear boy. My name is Richard Haze. And you are---"

"Horatio Hornblower."

"Yes, yes. I remember. Mr. Prescott spoke very highly of you." Horatio blushed. "You are a lieutenant in the Navy, I believe?"

"A commander."

"Oh! You've been promoted! That's splendid news, Mr. Hornblower!"

"Could you tell me where I can find my uncle, Mr. Haze?"

Haze licked his lips nervously. "I'm afraid that I---I don't know how to put this, Mr. Hornblower. . . Well, I suppose that I must speak plainly. . .Mr. Prescott is dead, Mr. Hornblower."

"Dead?!" Archie and William exchanged looks of curiosity and confusion.

"Yes, since last week," Mr. Haze replied. He glanced down at the papers on his desk and continued speaking in an agitated manner. "I found his body myself. I came to work, and there he was. . .lying in front of the desk. . . on his back. . .and his hands. . .his hands were. . .folded across each other over his heart." Mr. Haze began to shake.

Horatio frowned. "Did anyone discover the cause of death?"

Haze shivered. "It was determined that he'd died of natural causes. And I agree." The last sentence was uttered in a much sharper tone than anything he'd said up to that time. Archie and William again looked at each other in bafflement.

Horatio frowned. "Are you sure, Mr. Haze?"

"Oh, quite!" Haze stood up and moved to pick up a box from which he subsequently pulled out a piece of paper that he handed to Horatio. "The reading of his will is scheduled for tomorrow morning at ten o'clock at the office of Mr. Thomas Brown. His address is on this sheet. It shouldn't be hard to find."

"Thank you, Mr. Haze."

"You're welcome, Mr. Hornblower. I trust that I will be seeing you tomorrow?" Horatio nodded. "Well, until then, Mr. Hornblower."

"Good-bye, Mr. Haze."

Outside, Horatio's frown deepened. "I do not know what I think of what Mr. Haze told me. Something doesn't seem right. What do you think?"

Archie shrugged. "Mr. Haze's manner was odd, to say the least."

"And what he said didn't make any sense," William added. "If Mr. Prescott's arms were crossed, how could he have died of natural causes?"

"Maybe he decided to lie down on the floor with his arms crossed and died in that position?" Horatio replied doubtfully. "I do not think Uncle Obadiah could have died of natural causes, however. He wrote to me not too long ago, and I remember that he spoke of his excellent health. And when my family used to visit him, I recall that he was scrupulous when it came to matters of his health. Knowing that, I believe that he was too young to die naturally. He was only a few years older than you, William."

"I could understand his body being found on the floor if he'd collapsed," William thought aloud. "But he most likely wouldn't have been on his back. And the arms wouldn't be crossed so neatly after a spontaneous collapse."

"So he must've met his end at the hands of another party," Archie concluded.

"Precisely."

"But Mr. Haze doesn't seem to want to consider that possibility," Horatio observed.

"No"

"And why not?"

"I do not know. I know nothing about Mr. Haze. What do you know of him, Horatio?"

"Nothing," he replied. "I've never met him before. I believe that my uncle took him on as his assistant during the time I served on the _Indefatigable_. I vaguely remember him mentioning it in one of his letters. But that was all he said of Mr. Haze."

"Then we do not know enough about Mr. Haze to come to a conclusion about his motives."

"Maybe he was involved in Mr. Prescott's death somehow," Archie cut in. "But I don't think so. He was too shaken up to have done anything, I believe."

"That may be," Horatio replied. "But he might know something or have his own suspicions regarding the matter. If he does, it frightens him. That much is obvious." Archie and William nodded in agreement.

"I am sorry about your uncle's death, Horatio," William commiserated.

Horatio stopped in his tracks. "Thank you, William." He gazed at his friends intently. "I think that my uncle deserves justice, and he's clearly not receiving it. I have a proposal. You don't have to assist me if you don't want to, but I will pursue my plan, in any case. Someone needs to discover the secret behind Uncle Obadiah's death. And since no one else will attempt to do so, I think that I should do it. What do you think, William, Archie?"

"I will help you," Archie said at once. "There is something disconcerting about all of this. And I think that we should find out about it."

"And I will help, too," William echoed.

"Are you sure? This does not have to be your affair. I do not want to coerce you into doing something you'd rather not do."

Archie and William shared resolute glances, and Archie knew that they were of the same mind. "Yes, Horatio. We are sure."

-----------------------------------------

Once they reached the inn, the three discussed their plan of action in whispers over drinks in the common room. Horatio wanted both of them to accompany him to the reading of Obadiah Prescott's will tomorrow morning, but Archie demurred, saying that he must be sure that he was home when Lydia returned. So Horatio would take only William with him to Thomas Brown's office tomorrow, and the two of them could take note of any odd behavior from either Mr. Haze or the lawyer Thomas Brown. In the late afternoon, Archie would try to pry himself away from his family so that he could be updated on any new information. After that, they would think of what to do next.

Archie's mind was alive with thought when he left the Twins. He had no doubt that Horatio meant well, and he was dedicated to assisting Horatio in any way he could, but he was unsure about the course they'd committed to taking, all the same. Should they tell their suspicions to a constable? Wouldn't a constable be better qualified to investigate Obadiah Prescott's death? But constables were often unreliable, he reminded himself. They would probably not trouble themselves too much with Obadiah Prescott's death, even if they were told of the odd circumstances surrounding it.

No, they were definitely doing the right thing. They would have perfect freedom if they conducted the investigation on their own. And they could trust each other as well. The same could not be said of a constable; for all they knew, the constable they talked to could have been involved in Obadiah Prescott's death, however unlikely.

But what if they found something that endangered them in some way? Or worse, his family?

But surely they would be careful. They could protect themselves, and they would be discreet in their inquiries.

He hoped that they would not find themselves in peril, all the same. What were the chances of that, anyway? Besides, what if they did encounter some danger? What had happened to his zeal for adventure?

He paused to gaze at the sunset---hues of purple, blue, orange, and yellow covered the sky. It was truly a remarkable sunset and unlike anything he'd seen before. He wasn't likely to see such a stunning sunset again for quite some time.

Out of the corner of his eye his espied a cart rolling down the busy street. When he turned his full attention to the road, he noticed that a young woman stood directly in the cart's path. He perceived that she was too arrested by the spectacle of the sunset to hear its approach.

"Look! Behind you!" he shouted as he reflexively raced in her direction, pushing her out of the cart's way and taking a hard tumble to the ground with her.

"Pardon me, miss," he panted, taking his body off of her before any spectators could perceive any impropriety in their position. He gestured to where the cart had formerly been. "It was coming, and I saw that it would collide with you. . ." His voice trailed off as he ran out of things to say. When he ceased speaking, he realized, to his astonishment, that she was the same young woman he'd encountered this morning.

Her cheeks turned crimson as she stood up. Her eyes moved over his face anxiously. "I am sorry, sir. . .Thank you very much, sir. . .I believe that you have saved my life."

"It is no matter, miss," he repeated the last words he'd said to her earlier that day. Though it seemed impossible, she turned an even deeper shade of red. "Would you allow me to walk you home?"

"Yes, thank you." She stood dumbly for a moment. "I am sorry, sir. . . I believe that I have lost my wits."

Archie laughed in an effort to diffuse her uneasiness. "That is understandable. I would, too, in your situation. I have, in your situation." She smiled feebly at his last comment. Well, it was a start.

She led the way, and they walked in relative silence. During that time, Archie had ample opportunity to examine her figure. Average weight, average features. Stringy brown hair that fell to her shoulders. A drab gray dress. All in all, plain. But she did have bewitching eyes---they seemed to have wells of depth.

"I am Archie Kennedy," he told her. "May I ask whose company I have the pleasure to be in?"

She glanced down at the ground. "Betsy Sanders," she mumbled.

"Glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Sanders."

She stopped in front of a small wooden house. "This is where I live, Mr. Kennedy," she informed him.

He studied her abode. _Not exactly glamorous_, he thought. _But not such a terrible place, either._

"I will take my leave then, Miss Sanders. Are you sure that you will be all right? You had quite a scare earlier."

She nodded. "Yes, Mr. Kennedy. Thank you again. I wish I could repay the debt---"

"No, Miss Sanders. You owe me nothing. I did nothing but my duty." _God, I sound like Horatio._

"But I am grateful to you all the same. Good-bye, Mr. Kennedy."

"Good-bye, Miss Sanders."

As he turned to leave, he reflected on what had just occurred. Miss Sanders was too timid for her own good. Her habit of directing her eyes at the ground irritated him. And something else about her discomfited him, though he couldn't name what it was.

* * *

_**Author's Note**__**s**_: This chapter was much longer than I meant for it to be. I had a very hard time beginning it, but after a while, the writing came easier. I'm not sure if some parts seem too long or repetitive, though. 

So, there's a small beginning to the mystery here. The mystery will probably take a backseat in the next two chapters (though it will be present), because I still have a couple of characters to introduce. Once that's done, however, I can focus more on the mystery. In the end, everything will be connected (I think).

I know that my introduction of Betsy Sanders is pretty cheesy, and I apologize for that. It will be made up for in later chapters (though I can't give too much away here).

If you've been reading this story, thank you very much! I honestly appreciate each and every reader! If you read my story, please leave a review and let me know what you think of it. I appreciate feedback very much and listen to all of it. Those of you who have written me reviews have my sincerest thanks!


	4. Lydia

_**Disclaimer: **_The characters from _Horatio __Hornblower _do not belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter Four: Lydia**

Archie awoke early the next morning and found himself unable to sleep any longer. Not content merely to lie in bed, he dressed and ventured outside to enjoy some fresh air in the garden. Lately, he missed the constant presence of fresh air that came with life on a ship, and the outdoor atmosphere of London hardly compared with that of the sea. The air here had a sort of rancidness to it which he thought unpleasant, but the radiant smell of the flowers in the garden somewhat compensated for that.

As Archie strolled in the garden, the sun emerged from below the horizon. He again caught himself reveling in the natural beauty of the firmament. Something about the city corrupted the sunrise, for it appeared much more brilliant than it ever did at sea. There was something menacing about that blazing brilliance, though---it gave him the feeling that some sort of catastrophic explosion was imminent.

Stunned by something he suddenly saw, Archie stopped. Seated with his back supported by the trunk of a birch tree, Jonathan scratched furiously on the pages of a bound volume. It was so quiet that Archie could hear the movement of the quill---it sounded faintly like Jonathan violently stabbed the paper with every motion of his hand. Jonathan glanced up toward the horizon, and something about the expression in his eyes was unsettling---it was almost as if they were totally blank. He turned left on the path, for he was not eager to have another exchange laced with subtle antagonism with his eldest brother.

As he continued on the trail, an idea seized him. Maybe he should check on Betsy Sanders and see if she was all right. After all, she had had quite a fright yesterday. He could pick some flowers and take them to her as an offering.

Once Archie had gathered a small bouquet, he began the short trek to Miss Sanders's abode. He went around the house to the street without bothering to go inside first, for he did not want to be asked about his destination by anyone who might be awake. By the position of the sun in the sky, Archie knew that it was late enough for most people to have arisen from their night's sleep. Surely he would not disturb Miss Sanders if he visited her now.

As he strolled through London, Archie enjoyed the sights and sounds of a city emerging from its languor for yet another hectic day. Peddlers set up their booths, merchants unlocked their business doors and arranged their paraphernalia, and housewives cleaned the areas in front of their houses. There was a soothing rhythm to it all.

Before he knew it, he was standing in front of the home of Miss Sanders. He felt a momentary pang of doubt, but he overcame it as he rapped on the door. Archie stood there for what seemed forever, and he began to wonder whether everyone inside was still asleep after all. Or maybe they'd left for the duration of the day. But then the door finally swung open.

"Mr. Kennedy!" Betsy Sanders hissed in alarm. She stepped outside and closed the door gently behind her. "What're you doing here?"

The anxiety in her voice confused him. "Miss Sanders," he replied dumbly. "I. . .I brought you something." He offered her the flowers, which he'd been hiding behind his back up until this time.

"Mr. Kennedy," she sighed in astonishment. "Thank you. That is very kind of you." Again, that maddening habit of looking down at the ground.

"What occurred yesterday must've shocked you to no end," he said, mentally kicking himself for stating the obvious. "I was concerned---do you think you're all right?"

"Yes, Mr. Kennedy. I'm quite all right, thank you." She gave the door a nervous glance. "Mr. Kennedy, I cannot talk to you here. My father---my family would not like it.----"

He was puzzled. "Why not?"

She again directed her eyes at the door in apprehension. "I cannot explain---you would not understand. It is not that I'm ungrateful for your kindness. I just---" She paused. "If you wish to talk with me, we will have to do it somewhere else. Why don't you meet me at London Bridge the day after tomorrow?"

"That would suit me, Miss Sanders. At what time?"

"Twelve-thirty?" Archie nodded. "Well, good-bye, Mr. Kennedy." Her voice shook with the words.

"Good-bye, Miss Sanders." Archie felt bewildered at what had just happened. Why had his ability to speak failed him so infernally? And why had he agreed to meet her at London Bridge? He had nothing more to say to her; he had come only on a whim. And why was Miss Sanders so afraid of her family knowing of his presence? There was definitely something odd about that. At any rate, he did not desire to fulfill his promise to meet with her, but he was reluctant to break his word. Would she care if he brought Horatio and William with him?

-----------------------------------------

"Are you ready to leave yet, Horatio?" William asked his friend as he gazed at both of their faces in the mirror from behind Horatio's shoulder. If Horatio felt any emotion about the morning's upcoming events, it did not show. That was Horatio's problem---he kept everything to himself; consequently, he seemed a blank slate. But William knew better. Sometimes he feared that all of Horatio's bottled up emotions would one day burst from his seams in a spectacular explosion. But that was not likely to occur in the near future, William thought, for Horatio had a remarkable aptitude for self-possession.

"One minute," Horatio replied, moving to the desk to riffle through a small stack of papers. "We need the address."

"I have it right here," William responded, holding out his hand to show the slip of paper to Horatio.

Horatio sighed. "Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid that we might have lost it." Despite his words, Horatio's voice sounded as neutral as ever.

William was concerned for his young friend. After Archie had left them yesterday, Horatio had said very little and done nothing to betray whatever he might feel. Such behavior was unhealthy, though not unexpected in such a man as Horatio. "Are you sure that you are all right, Horatio?"

Horatio swallowed. William thought that tears momentarily crowded his eyes, but if they had been present, they disappeared a second later. "Yes, William, I am fine, thank you. If truth be told, I was never close to Uncle Obadiah. But we did write to each other regularly, and I think I grow fond of him through those letters."

"If you need anything, Horatio. . ."

"That will be unnecessary, William. I've already told you that I require nothing," Horatio replied sharply.

"It would be perfectly natural for you to---"

"No, William, dammit! I do not need your sympathy!" Horatio shouted. William was taken aback with the militant tone of his voice, but he realized that Horatio needed to express what he felt inside. Something flickered in Horatio's eyes, and William knew it was regret for the way he'd spoken to him. But Horatio would be too ashamed of himself to apologize, and William did not feel that any apology was necessary. He chanced another look into the mirror and studied the countenances which appeared therein. Horatio's bore the marks of a disguised haggardness, while his own wore an expression of resignation. That was it---he felt resignation toward Horatio's aloofness, for truly there was nothing he could do to aid his friend. He scrutinized his face further and found that it was not a pretty sight---not that it mattered how his face looked. He'd never held any illusions with regard to his appearance, and frankly, he did not care the least about it. He led a contented life as an officer in the Navy, and that was enough for him. God, how he missed the sea!

"Let us leave before it becomes too late to do so," Horatio said decisively. William agreed with his suggestion, and they walked to Thomas Brown's office in a tension-filled silence.

When they arrived at the office of Mr. Brown, Richard Haze was already present, and he greeted them with gusto.

"Mr. Hornblower! I am glad to see that you came!" he exclaimed.

"Thank you, Mr. Haze," he answered.

"And who is your companion? I believe that I saw him with you yesterday?"

"Lieutenant Bush."

"Oh! You served together in the Navy, I presume?"

"Yes, Mr. Haze."

"Well, well. Glad to make your acquaintance, Mr. Bush." Mr. Haze turned to William.

"As am I, Mr. Haze," he replied.

A man with a packet in his hand entered the building. The man was an odd sight, for he had thick chestnut whiskers that matched his hair.

"I apologize for my lateness," the man said. "Is everyone here?"

"Who should be here?" Mr. Haze asked.

The man, whom William had gathered must be Thomas Brown, pulled a pair of bifocals off of the desk and perched them carefully upon his nose before he read what was on the paper. "A Mr. Richard Haze and a Mr. Horatio Hornblower."

"We are both present," Mr. Haze replied.

"And who is the third party?"

"Mr. Bush is my friend," Horatio answered. "Is it permissible for him to attend the reading of the will?"

"Yes, I suppose that will be acceptable, Mr.---What is your name, sir?""Hornblower, sir.""Mr. Hornblower. Would everyone be seated?" He gestured to five chairs located in front of the desk. The three of them obeyed Mr. Brown's request before he positioned himself in the chair behind the desk.

"I will have to apologize for the unusual nature of this will. It seems that Obadiah Prescott liked to keep his writing succinct.

"'In the event of my death, I wish to bequeath to Mr. Richard Haze sole ownership of my accounting enterprise as well as the full value of my fortune with the exception of two hundred pounds which shall be bequeathed to Mr.Horatio Hornblower. I also bequeath to Mr. Horatio Hornblower a copy of all of my business transactions, records, etcetera.'"

William noticed that Mr. Haze's eyes widened at the last sentence. William agreed with Mr. Haze's astonishment; it was a most curious provision. He wondered at the reason behind it. He glanced at Horatio and saw that he was baffled, too.

William also found it odd that Mr. Haze was the heir to most of Mr. Prescott's money rather than Horatio. Shouldn't Horatio have that right as his blood relative? But perhaps Mr. Haze and he had been close. Still, two hundred pounds was not a bad sum.

The lawyer gave Horatio the money and a thick sheaf of papers which William presumed contained the "business transactions, records, etcetera." Horatio thanked Mr. Brown, then signaled to William that he wished to leave. They told Mr. Haze good-bye and exited the office.

_What will Archie think of these latest developments? _William asked himself. Maybe Archie could understand their connection with Mr. Prescott's bizarre death, if, indeed, there was one.

------------------------------------

Archie felt restless as he lounged in the parlor with a book in his hands. It was one of his favorite Shakespeare plays---_Richard III_---and it had been forever since he'd had such a pristine volume in his hands. Jonathan was also present in the room, his long legs stretched out in front of him as he gazed at the fireplace idly. What could occupied his brother's mind?

Even though Archie loved _Richard III_, he could not concentrate on the text at the moment. He wanted to know what Horatio and William were doing. Had anything unusual occurred during the reading of the will? How was Horatio coping with his uncle's death? Surely William would see to it that Horatio was fine.

He felt so weary of sitting! Especially when he knew that Horatio grieved for his loss. And there was work to be done---the three of them had made a pact.

But he had to stay here until Lydia arrived. Of course, he was eager to see Lydia, but he also felt a desperate need to speak with William and Horatio.

Lady Kennedy burst into the room, her face a study of fretful anticipation. "She's coming! She's coming!" she shrieked.

Jonathan raised an eyebrow. "Who's coming, Mother?" he asked in a sarcastic tone.

"Why, Lydia, of course!" Lady Kennedy replied. "Can't you be civil for once?" The last comment took Archie by surprise; it was the first time he'd heard anyone address Jonathan's peculiar behavior since he'd returned home.

"I have never been anything but civilized, Mother," Jonathan responded in an even tone. And he was right, in a way; Jonathan always had a polite manner about him even if certain malevolent tendencies boiled underneath.

Delila came into the room. "Miss Lydia Kennedy, milady, sirs," she announced before departing; Lydia entered the room in her wake.

"Oh, Lydia, my darling!" Lady Kennedy gushed as she clutched her daughter in a tight embrace.

"I am glad to see you, too, Mama," Lydia replied, pulling back from her mother's arms.

That was when Archie first saw his younger sister's figure in full, and he was so astonished that his breath caught in his throat. She certainly had grown quite a bit since he'd last seen her., although she was a few inchers shorter than their mother, who was of an average height for a woman. Her eyes were of the same shade as Archie's, and they sparkled in the same good-natured mischievous manner---_vivacity _would be the word that best described the expression in them. Her pale blonde hair was done up fashionably and the tips of her hair contained ringlets which rested upon her shoulders. She wore a modest brown dress which complimented her.

Jonathan glanced at Archie before directing his eyes at his sister. "Welcome home, Lydia." He greeted her in a monotone.

"Good morning, Jonathan!" she exclaimed as a smile crept across her face. She stared at Archie for what seemed like forever, her eyes holding a flicker of recognition but nevertheless uncomprehending.

Lady Kennedy's eyes darted between the two of them. "Lydia, this is---"

"I know---Archie!" she squealed, rushing to him in order to envelope him in a warm hug. "Oh, Archie, I'm so happy to see you!" she murmured with tears in her eyes.

Archie felt his eyes watering as well. "You do not know how eagerly I have been awaiting this moment," he told her in a low voice. "Lydia, I---" In the midst of the intense emotion that had engulfed him, he'd almost said that he loved her. And he did---he loved everyone in his family. When she was a child, Archie had enjoyed looking after her, so that now he felt a paternal sort of affection for her. But he wasn't sure if he should tell her that; they hadn't seen each other in so long that it might sound strange for him to give utterance to his feelings on the matter.

Both Jonathan and Lady Kennedy's expressions betrayed the curiosity they felt for what Archie had been about to say, but neither of them said nothing. When Lydia stood up, Lady Kennedy spoke.

"Where is Margaret?" she asked.

"Aunt Margaret wanted to return home as quickly as possible," Lydia answered. "She sends all of you her regards." Margaret Stanton was Lady Kennedy's widowed, childless sister who had accompanied Lydia as a chaperone on her sojourn to the Duke of Markham's country estate.

"Oh. Well, we must call on her soon to thank her for her kindness," Lady Kennedy replied, pausing to grin conspiratorially. "Well, Lydia? What news of the Duke of Markham? Did you and he---" Lady Kennedy blushed. "Did he---"

"No, Mama," Lydia interrupted. "He has not proposed to me."

Lady Kennedy's eyes widened in surprise. "Are you telling me true, Lydia?! I was sure that it would occur while you were at his home."

Lydia shrugged. "Well, it has not, Mama."

Lady Kennedy frowned. "That is most irregular."

"Are you sure that you have not offended His Grace in some way, Lydia?" Jonathan inquired.

Lydia narrowed her eyes in indignation. "No, Jonathan, I have not. Why must you always assume the worst of people?"

"I find that the worst is usually true."

"Just because---" Lydia's voice rang shrilly.

"I will not hear another unpleasant word from either of you!" Lady Kennedy commanded. "This should be a day of celebration, and I will not have it marred by petty fighting."

"But Mama---" Lydia began, but a steely glare from her mother silenced her.

Jonathan spread his hands in a gesture of appeasement. "You are right, Mother. I will not say another word.""I didn't tell you to do that, Jonathan, and you know it! You can sound kind when you wish to. I know that you can."

"I daresay that you are right, Mother."

An uncomfortable silence reigned until Lady Kennedy resumed her line of inquiry. "How did His Grace's mother treat you?"

"She accorded me every hospitality imaginable," Lydia replied. "At first she shunned me, I think because I do not hold the same high place in society as her son, but she really was a lovable creature." Lydia's eyes filled with tears of fondness. "She told me---she told me that she'd be honored to have me as her daughter."

Lady Kennedy nodded. "I knew that no one could resist your charms, Lydia. Well, if she said such a thing, she must believe that her son means to propose."

"I quite agree," Jonathan echoed. He'd been following the conversation with keen interest since his mother had reprimanded him. "You have no reason to worry, Lydia. His Grace will ask you to marry him eventually. Soon, I reckon."Lydia sobbed into a handkerchief that her mother handed her. "Thank you, Jonathan.""There, there!" Lady Kennedy murmured as she patted her daughter on the back comfortingly. "You have nothing to fret about. Everything will be all right.""I know, Mama. I know," Lydia mumbled.

"If everyone would kindly excuse me, I have an appointment to keep," Jonathan announced as he stood up.

Lady Kennedy's eyebrows climbed several inches. "With whom, Jonathan?" He did not reply. "Surely you do not have to meet with your whist circle today? That is not where you are going?" Jonathan stood in silence, which Lady Kennedy took for assent. "It is, isn't it?" Irritation covered every ounce of her voice. "If I've told you once, I'll tell you again, Jonathan! Those men are beneath your station! Not a one of them with a title to his name! And I have heard some shady stories about some of them!"

Jonathan rolled his eyes. "Mother, it is none of your affair with whom I choose to spend my time. Besides, I am not meeting anyone for a game of whist today."

"Then where are you going, pray tell?"

"I have some urgent business to attend to."

"And what would that be?"

"I will not answer any more of your prying questions. Good-bye, Mother, Archie. Lydia---I wish you the best of luck with His Grace." Jonathan stalked out of the room.

Lydia appeared puzzled. "Mama, what---"

"Do not ask, Lydia. I must speak with Delila about dinner. Lord Kennedy will be home soon, and he will desire a word with you, I am sure."

Once Lady Kennedy left the room, Lydia continued to sob into her handkerchief quietly. Archie did not know what to say to her. Unlike his mother and Jonathan, he did not think that she cried for fear of never garnering a proposal from the Duke of Markham. "Lydia---" he began, attempting to choose his words carefully.

Lydia looked up and smiled faintly. "I'm so sorry, Archie. I know that I must be a horrible sight. And there is very much that I wish to ask you---so much that we must tell each about our lives. What is it like at sea, Archie? Is it as exciting as I once said I thought it would be?" She referenced a talk the two of them had had the day before Archie had left for the _Justinian_. He would never forget it---Lydia had only been five then, and she had been eager to join the Navy, too. Their mother informed her that it was most improper for a young lady to do such a thing. She protested, but Lady Kennedy would not hear of her expressing such wishes. Lydia told Archie that she believed life at sea would be exciting and romantic. As a child, she had always been desirous of adventure. Archie wondered how much of that part of her childhood self Lydia still retained.

But Archie would not speak with Lydia about that matter now. Something about her attitude bothered him. "You do not wish to wed the Duke of Markham, do you, Lydia?" he asked in an even tone.

Lydia gasped. "No, Archie, it isn't that---" She stopped mid-sentence when Archie's countenance told her that he did not believe her assertion. She gazed downwards guiltily. "You are right, Archie. I do not want to marry him."

"Why not, Lydia?" he inquired softly.

"It is just---" She blew her nose. "I do not love him, Archie. I know that it is a stupid, silly, womanish reason not to marry a man. No one ever really marries for love. Still---" Her eyes took on a wistful look. "Still, I should very much like to marry for love. But it is not to be. The Duke of Markham is a wonderful catch for someone such as me. And when the time comes, we will wed, and we will have children, and I will be content. But my life will be empty."

---------------------------------------------

After dinner, Archie could finally visit his friends at the Twins. He had felt awkward during the meal since everyone spoke about subjects which were common knowledge to all excerpt him. He had desired to learn more about Lydia, but she had been too emotional to speak to him anymore after her confession about her feelings with regard to the Duke of Markham.

He sympathized with Lydia. Truly, he did. But he could think of no way to comfort her. She had duties to their family, and they both knew it. Archie felt guilty, for as the youngest son, he'd had no choice but to join the Navy in order to assure that he had the means to survive once his father died. Jonathan was Lord Kennedy's sole heir, and Matthew would inherit a considerable amount, but Lord Kennedy did not possess enough money to leave both Matthew and Archie sustainable sums. Once in the Navy, he no longer had a strict responsibility to his family. Of course, he had to maintain a good reputation, but could hardly be expected to move in the same aristocratic circles as his family in his position as a mere naval officer. All of his other siblings---Matthew, Anne, Lydia, Jonathan---were so inextricably bound up with the family that they must pay heed to the rules of high society.

Jonathan---now he was a cipher. He seemed to obey the strictures of aristocratic culture, but insubordination boiled just beneath the surface. And he'd just learned today that Jonathan apparently associated with the wrong sort of people. Archie knew that Jonathan played whist with a few friends every day, but he did not realize that those friends inhabited tenuous social positions. Was there a reason behind it? Was there a chance that Lord Kennedy would disinherit him in favor of Matthew?

Archie put all thoughts of family aside when he rapped on the door of his friends' room. William opened it a crack, flashed Archie a wide smile, and bade him to enter.

Archie frowned. "Where is Horatio?"

"He went on a walk. No doubt he will be back soon."

"How is he?"

William's smile vanished, and his face took on a bleak look. "That I do not know. He---he keeps to himself."

Archie nodded. "Just as I thought. We must be careful with him, William."

"I know."

"I trust that nothing dramatic occurred during the reading of the will."

"No. Mr. Prescott left Horatio two hundred pounds. And this." William picked up a stack of papers from the desk and handed it to Archie.

Archie flipped through the pages. "What is it?"

"A list of all of Mr. Prescott's business transactions."

"How odd." Archie looked up. "Why do you think he gave this to Horatio?"

"I do not know."

An idea hit him. "Perhaps---"

"Good evening, William!" Horatio called from the doorway. His voice startled Archie so much that he dropped the list, scattering the pages across the floor.

"I'm sorry, Horatio!" Archie exclaimed, bending down to pick up the sheets of paper.

"It is no matter, Archie. Do not trouble yourself," Horatio replied, a hard look coming into his eyes.

Archie ignored him and continued to clean up the mess. Horatio endeavored to help, all the while insisting that Archie need not pick up anything. Archie sensed that the argument they were having could become hostile at any minute, and he was trying to think of a way to avert it when a sudden knock at the door startled all three of them.

"Who could that be?" William asked, sounding slightly alarmed.

"We shall see," Horatio answered, moving to the door. He opened it to reveal none other than Lydia.

"Who---" Horatio began, puzzled.

"Lydia!" Archie exclaimed, running to her side. He noticed Horatio and William exchange curious glances. Archie grasped her arm and pulled her to the side so that his friends could neither see nor hear them.

"Ow, Archie, you're hurting me," Lydia whimpered.

He let go of her, remorseful for his hasty reaction to her arrival. "I apologize. What are you doing here? How did you get here?"

Lydia smiled. "I followed you. I wanted to meet your naval friends. There's nothing wrong with that, is there?"

Archie was reluctant to cater to her wish. Lord and Lady Kennedy surely would not appreciate him introducing his friends to her in an environment other than their home. He did not want to be the one to blame if Lydia strayed from the bounds of propriety. "Lydia, I don't think---"

"Please, Archie? Please, may I?"

Archie sighed. "All right." He'd rue this decision, he knew. Well, Lydia certainly had not lost her taste for adventure. He escorted her back into the room.

"Horatio, William, this is my sister Lydia. Lydia, Captain Horatio Hornblower, Lieutenant William Bush."

"How do you do, Mr. Hornblower?" Lydia greeted him.

"I am fine, thank you. Glad to make your acquaintance, Miss Kennedy," Horatio replied, kissing her on the hand. Lydia giggled, and Horatio resumed a neutral expression.

William bowed his head to her and smiled grimly. "How do you do, Miss Kennedy?"

"I am well, thank you, Mr. Bush," she replied. Lydia gazed at William much too long for Archie's comfort. But then she wrinkled her nose slightly and turned to her brother. "Shall we go to the common room for a drink, then?"

That was hardly a respectable place for Lydia to show herself! "I do not think that would be wise, Lydia."She raised an eyebrow in challenge. "Why not? There is hardly enough room for all of us to stay in here comfortably."

"She is right, Archie," Horatio cut in. "We should go to the common room."

Where was Horatio's common sense? He could hardly oppose Lydia now. He nodded curtly. "Very well."

"Do not worry," Horatio whispered into his ear as they descended the stairs. "We will watch out for her."

A skinny young man approached them when they were seated at a table in the common room. "What would you like to drink?" he asked.

"Nothing," Archie replied.

"William and I would like a brandy," Horatio said. Archie resented him before he realized that Horatio ordered the drinks merely for appearance's sake. Lydia looked as if she was about to speak, but Archie kicked her under the table, which effectively silenced her.

Still, the boy had perceived Lydia's desire to have something. "And what can I get for the young lady?"

"Noth---" Archie began, but Lydia's voice overrode his.

"I'd like---a brandy, too," she giggled.

"Three brandies, then," the boy said. Lydia ignored Archie's glare.

"Mr. Hornblower, what do you think of London?" Lydia asked. "Is this your first visit?"

"No, Miss Kennedy," he replied. "When I was a lad, I visited London several times."

"Do you enjoy London?"

"Very much," Horatio said deliberately, a false smile pasted on his face.

"And you, Mr.---"

"Three brandies, sirs, miss," the boy announced, slamming the drinks on the table. Lydia immediately picked hers up, the possibility of another giggle teasing the corners of her mouth. She took a sip, and her smile widened.

"Does miss find her brandy satisfactory?" the boy inquired.

"Oh, yes!" Lydia exclaimed.

The boy sauntered to her side and put his lips to her ear, whispering into it loudly and lasciviously. "There's more where that came from, miss." Lydia dissolved into hysterical giggles.

Archie was appalled. "Now, that is enough, young man!" he shouted. "Leave us alone, or I'll--"

"You'll what?"

Archie stood up. "I'll make you sorry for it."

"Oh, really?"

"Archie, sit down!" Horatio hissed. "This is not the time or the place."

"Your friend is right."

"Don't you---"

"Archie," William said in a soft tone. "Calm yourself. I think you should leave."

"_I _should leave?!"

"You and Miss Kennedy," William replied quietly.

"Right. I will. Come, Lydia. It is time we returned home."

"But---" Lydia began.

"No. We are leaving. Now." He turned to glare at the young man, who suddenly found other customers to attend to.

When they were outside, Lydia spoke.

"But what did I do, Archie?" she asked, tears in her eyes.

"I knew it was a bad idea to listen to you."

"I was just curious, Archie. I've never---" She swallowed. "I've never been inside an inn before. Or a common room."

"And that was for the best.""But you can hardly say that it was the fault of your friends.""No. Perhaps Mother and Father could invite them to dinner again. Then you could meet them properly."

Lydia nodded. "You are right, Archie. I am sorry."

Archie stopped in his tracks. "And I am sorry for treating you harshly, Lydia."

"Thank you." She smiled in appeasement. "I must say, I am looking forward to having Mr. Hornblower and Mr. Bush over for dinner. Your Mr. Hornblower---he is quite a handsome man."

"Lydia---" Archie began in chastisement.

Lydia laughed. "I know, Archie. I was merely making an observation. I know I have only just met Mr. Hornblower, but he does not seem to be the sort of man whom I would like. Romantically, I mean."

Archie sighed inwardly in relief.

* * *

_**Author's Notes**_: Thanks for reading! 

I'm starting to have serious doubts about my story. . .I'm afraid that it's not the right sort of premise one should have for a _Hornblower_ story.

This is the first time I've taken the point-of-view of someone other than Archie. I know it seems odd to write from Bush's point-of-view so sporadically, but occasionally key plot points will occur when Archie is not present for them.

I would appreciate it very much if you left me a review! I can never judge my own writing, and I would like to hear your opinion about it! Shout-outs go to silmaewen and katia-1 for their reviews!


	5. Robert Collier, the Duke of Markham

Disclaimer: The characters from _Horatio Hornblower_ do not belong to me.

**Chapter Five: Robert Collier, the Duke of Markham**

"Well, Mama, what do you think?" Lydia's question floated delicately through the parlor, giving both Archie and Lady Kennedy a strange, inexplicable feeling of hanging in a blissful albeit precarious balance among the softest of clouds.

Lady Kennedy frowned down upon her youngest daughter, who was comfortably balanced upon a chair with a forgotten Gothic romance novel resting upon her lap. Archie reposed on a seat nearby, and his gaze jumped from his mother to his youngest sister uncertainly.

"I do not know if that would be acceptable," Lady Kennedy enunciated. "You should not be among such company, Lydia. Especially given certain--expected upcoming events."

Deep color rushed up Lydia's neck and onto her face. "But I want to meet them, Mama! After everything I've heard from Archie, I want to see if they are as gallant in person as they are on paper."

Lady Kennedy narrowed her eyes, directing them at the tome in Lydia's possession. "Lydia, I think you have been reading too many of those books. You know that Lord Kennedy and I do not approve of such material. It can only have a corrupting influence."

Lydia's laugh echoed in the room musically. "Mama, I know the difference between imagination and reality! I will not do anything merely because I read of it in a book."

Lady Kennedy gazed at her thoughtfully. "I suppose not. I wish that you and Miss Nichols would leave off such activities, all the same."

A fragile silence descended upon the room for a few long moments. Lydia broke it with her next utterance. "Mama? You still have not answered me."

Lady Kennedy sighed. "I suppose that you do have a right to meet them, if only to know more about the sort of life that your brother leads. Mr. Hornblower is not such a bad fellow, after all. I know that he would respect all boundaries. Fine man, he is." She paused as she turned to Archie. "We could not invite Mr. Hornblower without inviting Mr. Bush, too, I suppose?"

"Mama!" Lydia gasped softly.

Archie was offended. "No, Mother, you could not. William may not have the manners that you revere so deeply, but he does know how to respect boundaries. He would never dream of transgressing them; he is as scrupulous when it comes to such matters as Horatio."

Lady Kennedy sighed. "Very well, Archie. Please extend to them an invitation to dine with us four days hence next time you are in their company."



"I will, Mother."

"Thank you, Mama," Lydia said. "I will behave myself. Truly, I will."

"I hope that you are telling me the truth. For your sake."

Delila rushed headlong into the room, her face flushed with exertion. "Milady, Master Archibald, Miss Lydia--I present to you His Grace, the Duke of Markham."

"Where is Lucas?" Lady Kennedy demanded, but before Delila could even so much as attempt to answer her, a man had entered the room and she had beat a hasty but discreet retreat.

"Your Grace," Lady Kennedy breathed, her face a study of nervousness as she bowed her head to him. Lydia and Archie echoed her sentiments, albeit with more neutrality.

"I am delighted to see you again, Lady Kennedy. You do look well, I must say. And you, Miss Lydia, look so charming today."

"Oh," Lydia squeaked, her face and neck turning a bright red for the second time that day. She glanced down at her dress self-consciously--it was an old blue dress, not one Archie supposed she would have worn if she had known that the Duke of Markham would be visiting them today.

"And you, I take it, are the famous Lieutenant Kennedy whom I have heard so much about from these people?" the Duke ventured once he faced Archie.

Archie took in the much touted Robert Collier, the Duke of Markham, for the first time in his life. He was quite an elegant figure, clad in the latest fashions, which suited him perfectly. His face was a light tan color from the time he had spent outdoors while at his country estate, but the shade suited him and imbued him with a luminescent handsomeness. His hair was a rich dark brown, and his eyes were hazel--though it was hard to determine whether they were haughty and disconcerting or vibrant and warm.

"Yes, Your Grace," Archie replied in a low voice. "I am honored to make your acquaintance, Your Grace."

The Duke smiled--again, Archie encountered a paradox in that smile--it seemed genuine, but there was something so improvably mechanical about it. "It is I who am wholly honored in meeting you, Mr. Kennedy. From what I have heard from Miss Lydia—" His eyes moved to rest upon her fondly. "--you are quite the war hero."

"Oh, I would not say that, Your Grace," Archie responded as he felt the color rise to his cheeks. "I am sure that Lydia was exaggerating."

"I did no such thing!" Lydia broke in.



The Duke's smile widened. "Indeed, I should think not, Miss Lydia."

"We were just about to have our dinner," Lady Kennedy told the Duke. "Would you care to join us at the table, Your Grace?"

"I would be delighted, Lady Kennedy," the Duke replied.

"I must first ascertain whether Jonathan and my husband have returned from their business in town," Lady Kennedy said. "Would you mind waiting in here, Your Grace?"

"Not at all, Lady Kennedy, not at all."

"Mr. Kennedy," the Duke articulated once Lady Kennedy had left the room. "Miss Lydia has told me of your exploits. Is it true that you destroyed a Spanish fort, jumped off of a formidable cliff, and swam to your ship?"

"That. . .That wasn't really me," Archie stammered. "Mr. Hornblower had been ordered to blow up that fort by the captain, and Mr. Bush and I merely kept him company. Mr. Hornblower--it was mostly his doing." He hesitated before each of his friends' names; it was difficult not to call them by their first names, but he felt that the more formal way of mentioning them was better suited to a conversation with the Duke of Markham.

"But you still jumped off of a cliff and swam a considerable distance," the Duke pointed out. "No mean feat."

"It wasn't really much of a cliff. . .or a distance to swam."

"Yes it was, Archie!" Lydia exclaimed. "You said so in your letter!"

The Duke raised his eyebrows, but didn't say anything.

Lady Kennedy returned to the parlor, a satisfied smile adorning her lips. "Lord Kennedy and Jonathan have returned. They are waiting for us in the dining room."

She tried to surreptitiously allow the Duke to proceed out of the parlor doorway first, but he deferred to her, insisting that he should be the last to leave the room.

"Your Grace," Lord Kennedy uttered, standing up from his seat at the head of the table so that he could show the Duke proper respect. Jonathan stood up as well, echoing his father's words and actions, his mouth a thin straight line.

"Lord Kennedy, Jonathan," the Duke intoned; Archie thought his voice had a rhythmic lilt to it.

"Please, Your Grace, be seated," Lord Kennedy said. Once the Duke was ensconced in his chair, the Kennedys sat down.



Delila carried in the first course, and Lord Kennedy offered the first pick of food to the Duke, who accepted graciously.

"Your Grace, did you find your sojourn into the country pleasant?" Jonathan inquired.

"Oh, quite, thank you Mr. Kennedy," the Duke replied. "And I was most delighted to have Miss Lydia with me. She is a wonderful companion."

Jonathan's eyes flickered between the Duke and Lydia, his face for once not an unreadable mask--at least not to Archie. There was deep concern etched in the lines of his forehead, as well as uncertainty--but what Jonathan was uncertain about, Archie had no idea.

"I hear that there is a rich variety of game in that area, Your Grace," Lord Kennedy said. "Did you have the opportunity to hunt?"

"Yes, I did. It was an exquisite exercise--game of such a spectacular quality is hard to find in most places lately; at least, that is what I am told. I took Miss Lydia on one of our hunting expeditions; she did not find it to her taste."

Lydia shuddered. "It was horrible."

The Duke smiled at her. "That is quite all right, Miss Lydia. I am rather glad that you did not like it. Hunting is not a sport for ladies."

"No, I suppose not," she said in a small voice.

"Mr. Kennedy," the Duke addressed Archie. "Would you be willing to tell me about your experiences in the Navy? As you know, Miss Lydia has told me of what you said in your letters, but I would like to hear about it from you personally. I believe that I shall find it fascinating."

"I--I--" Archie began, too agitated to know what to say. The Duke would not truly understand anything he told him, as Lydia had not understood. All of his experiences--his life--would seem like nothing but a spectacle for this man's amusement, and he could not bring himself to supply that to him.

"Well, go on, Archibald," Lady Kennedy demanded. "Tell us about one of your adventures."

Archie blanched; he could think of nothing to say. He was aware of the acute embarrassment that he was causing his family, but he did not want to tell a story, and he could not think of a suitable way to extricate himself from the situation.

"Archibald faced some difficult situations in the Navy. It causes him pain to speak of it sometimes. I trust that is what is robbing him of his ability to speak." The words rushed out of Jonathan's mouth in a steady tide which shocked Archie to no end. Jonathan was _helping _him? After all of his snide comments and his aspersions during the dinner with Horatio and William? 

He did not have time to think about this latest development, however, as Jonathan gave him a meaningful look.

"Yes, Your Grace. I apologize profusely," Archie said in corroboration of Jonathan's assertion.

"It is quite all right, Mr. Kennedy," the Duke replied. "I understand, and I commiserate." Beside him, Lydia gawked at him in puzzlement, while Lady Kennedy stared at him with concern.

"Is that true, Archibald? I am so sorry--I did not know."

"I do not wish to dwell upon it, Mother," Archie mumbled, gazing at his plate abstractly. He brought his eyes up in time to find Jonathan's inscrutable pair directed upon him intently before he turned to the Duke.

"How is your mother, Your Grace?"

"She is very well, thank you, Mr. Kennedy. As full of life as ever, and she thoroughly enjoyed Miss Lydia's company."

Delila entered the dining room in order to clear the plates and bring in the main course of the evening--a suckling pig. Someone must have been able to procure it very quickly, for it could only be present for the Duke's benefit.

"Your Grace, would you like to do us the honors of carving the suckling?" Lady Kennedy inquired.

"Gladly, Lady Kennedy," he relied. Lord Kennedy handed him the appropriate knife, and he commenced the carving, doing an intricately skillful job; Archie could not help contrasting it with William's disastrous carving of a few days ago. After extricating the first piece from the suckling, he offered it to Lydia, who paled.

"Oh, no, please, Your Grace," Lydia pleaded. "I cannot eat that." She chewed her lip nervously.

"Why ever not, Lydia?" Lady Kennedy asked.

"I . . .I just cannot. Please don't make me eat it." Her tone had become slightly frantic.

"Miss Lydia, you do not have to eat it if you wish," the Duke said, gazing at her thoughtfully. "Would you like to have this piece, Lady Kennedy?"

"Yes, I think I shall. Thank you, Your Grace."

Once the Duke had doled out a portion of the suckling to everyone else at the table, he cleared his throat to make an announcement. "There will be a ball at my residence next Friday."

"Oh! I do love a good ball!" Lydia exclaimed giddily.

The Duke smiled at her slyly. "I know that you do. You will have a grand time, I promise you that. Of course, all of you are invited."

"That is splendid, Your Grace! Thank you! I guarantee that we will be there!" Lady Kennedy responded.

"Very good, Lady Kennedy. Mr. Kennedy," he said, turning to Archie as he did so. "I wuld like to extend an invitation to your shipmates as well. Mr. Bush and Mr. Hornblower." He pulled out a handful of formal invitations and handed one to Lord Kennedy and gave Archie two to give to William and Archie. "I would very much appreciate it if they could make an appearance. You will give these to them, will you not?"

"Yes, Your Grace. I am most honored."

After dessert, the Duke stood up and addressed Lydia. "Would you kindly accompany me in a stroll through the garden?"

A barely suppressed contented expression upon her face, Lady Kennedy motioned for her to go along, and Lydia's face turned ashen. Once the couple was outside, she turned to her husband giddily. "He's going to propose!" she shrieked.

"We shall soon see," Lord Kennedy replied enigmatically.

Lady Kennedy stared at him, trying to understand his meaning. "Oh, I wish you wouldn't vex me so, Lord Kennedy!" Her husband broke into a broad grin.

Archie felt that he should thank Jonathan for saving him during the conversation at the dinner, and, since his parents were not paying them the slightest attention, he decided that now was a good time to do so. "Jonathan--" he began.

"Be quiet, Archibald," Jonathan intoned softly, fixing him with a contemplative look. "I only--I only did my duty." Jonathan's words rang hollowly in Archie's ears. He was lying, Archie knew, but he could not imagine why. Or how he had known what he was going to tell him.

When the Duke and Lydia returned, the Duke was beaming and a flush had once again covered Lydia's cheeks.

"Lord Kennedy, I am happy to inform you that Miss Lydia has accepted my offer of marriage. I look forward to discussing the details with you in the future." Lydia seemed to shrink under the jubilant glance that he directed at her.

"I am most honored to have you betrothed to my daughter, Your Grace," Lord Kennedy replied.

Jonathan flashed Lydia a smile of congratulations, and she returned it half-heartedly. Archie concluded that the Duke was a fine man, even if he resented his eagerness to hear adventurous 

naval stories. With a man such as him, Lydia would eventually find peace in marriage, he believed.

--

As he ascended the stairs of the inn to his friends' rooms early the next morning, Archie wondered what he should bring up first--the ball or his suspicions about the list that Mr. Prescott had left to Horatio? He did not wish to tell Horatio and William about the ball at all; he did not think either one would wish to attend, but Lydia insisted that he must convince them to go to the ball both in order to please her and prevent giving offense to her fiancé His Grace Robert Collier, the Duke of Markham. On the other hand, they would need as much time as possible to try to ascertain how to proceed in solving the murder of Obadiah Prescott.

For surely it must've been murder. His body would not have been found in the position it was otherwise.

But who? And how? And why?

That was what they must try to find. And they were not even remotely close to the answer.

William answered the door when he knocked, and he motioned to Archie to be careful before Horatio, who was bent over the sheaf of papers at the desk, a frustrated expression upon his countenance, his hair uncharacteristically tousled.

"I just don't understand!" Horatio moaned. "What are we supposed to do with this list?!"

William caught Archie's eye, and Archie knew that William understood that he had an idea about the matter.

"I think I know," Archie replied. Startled by his voice, Horatio whirled around in the chair to face Archie. He looked so anguished that Archie wished he could erase the tortured emotion from his face.

"Well?" Horatio's voice dragged out harshly.

Ignoring William's warning look, Archie approached the desk with a deliberate gait until he was nearly face to face with Horatio. "The name of the murderer--" Horatio flinched at that word. "--is on this list." He slapped a finger on the paper in order to emphasize his point and grinned. "We need to begin by examining every name on it."

Horatio frowned. "Of course! It's obvious! Why did I not see it?"

Archie's grin widened in spite of himself. "No, it was not obvious."

Horatio clapped his hands together in determination. "Gentlemen! Let us get to work!" He grabbed two sections of the list and handed them to William and Archie.



"But how are we to know which names are suspicious?" William asked, confused.

Archie's smile disappeared. "Oh. That I do not know."

"Perhaps we can ask Mr. Haze if Uncle Obadiah had any troublesome clients? Or whether he angered a client in some way?"

"But as you've observed, Horatio, Mr. Haze does not seem to want to cooperate with us in any way. Even though the condition in which he found Mr. Prescott was strange, he did not question it in the least or report it," William pointed out.

"Still, it would not do any harm to ask the man."

"Surely not. But what are we to do with these names in the meantime? And what will we do if Mr. Haze refuses to answer our questions?"

"Maybe we can scan the list to see if any of the names stand out to us," Archie suggested. "If we've ever known someone on the list personally, or if one of them belongs to a known criminal."

Horatio nodded decisively. "Then that is what we will do. We will go see Mr. Haze this afternoon, after we've met this Miss Sanders you've been telling us about, Archie." Despite the circumstances, Horatio still pronounced the last sentence with a devilish gleam in his eye.

"How do you know Miss Sanders again?" William asked. Now there definitely _was _a mischievous spark in his eye!

"I told you. . .I saved her from being hit by a carriage," Archie replied.

"By jumping on top of her!" William exclaimed, his manner blatantly teasing. "I bet that was quite a sight, she and you laying in the street like that." He smiled at Archie slyly.

"That was not intentional!"

"Of course not." But William's smile now took over his whole face, encapsulating his eyes.

Archie blushed; he knew that William meant his comments only in good fun, but they still embarrassed him.

"I have something for both of you," Archie said, changing the subject. William raised his eyebrows but remained silent as Archie pulled out the invitations to the Duke of Markham's ball and allowed his friends to read their contents to themselves.

"A ball?!" Horatio sounded appalled.

"We cannot go to this," William asserted. "We will make fools of ourselves."

"Lydia insists that there are always officers of the Navy at the most fashionable balls," Archie replied, his voice the one now containing a note of mischief. "And that it would be a mortal affront to her betrothed if you refuse."

William's eyes widened. "Your sister is now engaged? That is terrific news! You must tender her my--our congratulations."

"Yes, Archie," Horatio echoed.

Archie bestowed a self-satisfied smile upon them. "His Grace proposed to her yesterday. They have not announced the engagement publicly yet; His Grace wishes to do so at the end of the ball."

"Why at the end of the ball?" Horatio asked, puzzled. "Shouldn't it be the main event of the ball?"

Archie shrugged. "I daresay that His Grace has his reasons."

"I suppose that we must go, then. We must not offend your sister's future husband."

William swallowed. "I will go as well, but I--I think I may look completely ridiculous."

"You will be fine," Archie assured him. "Oh, there's something I've completely forgotten!" Archie smacked a hand on his forehead. "Mother and Father would like you to dine with us again so that Lydia can meet you, since she voices her desires on the subject so strongly. In three days, to be exact." William groaned, and Archie grinned; even though he felt sorry for his friend, he could not forbear goading him.

"But we've already met her," Horatio said.

Archie sighed. Obviously, Horatio did not understand certain things. "She was not supposed to have come here when she did the other day. If Mother and Father had known, they would be livid. For all practical purposes, this will be your first encounter with her."

"I shall be more careful this time, Archie," William promised. "I know my mishaps must have mortified your family."

Archie stopped smiling so that he could comfort William. "Do not worry about it. Just be yourself. Everything will be all right, trust me."

William nodded. "Thank you, Archie."

"I think I might have found something!" Horatio suddenly exclaimed, his eyes glued to the list in front of him.



"What is it, Horatio?" Archie asked.

Horatio frowned. "I am not sure if it is important or not. But it is an odd entry." Horatio cleared his throat before he read aloud. "_Patrick Garrison, of the Garrisonians_."

Archie wrinkled his forehead. "What does that mean? Who are the Garrisonians?"

"I do not know. But Uncle Obadiah wrote some notes under the last transaction. I have not found another instance of that thus far. Have you?"

"No," both William and Horatio replied at the same time. Horatio pursed his lips as he read over the segment again.

"Well, what does your uncle Obadiah say?" Archie inquired.

"_Must find a way to refuse to do their accounts anymore without incurring their wrath. Must report what Mr. Garrison told me to somebody. But who will believe me?_"

All three of them stared at each other, dumbstruck.

Author's Notes: There's Chapter Five! Sorry it took me so long to get it done. Last week was a crazy week for me; I did not even get the chance to write anything! I missed writing, though, and I'm glad that I could find some time to do some writing this week! 

As the semester progresses, I may have even less time to write than I do now because I have many things to do, much more than I usually do when all I have to worry about is class. But I will try really hard to update on a regular basis, and I do not plan on abandoning this story, no matter how long it takes to write it!

I changed the title because I did not like the old one. Sorry if that causes any confusion!

Now that I've got all of the major players introduced, I can concentrate more on plot now, hopefully!

I mention a "Miss Nichols" in this chapter. She is a friend of Lydia's and not a major character, but she will be introduced sometime later in the story.

These lines spoken by Lydia, "Oh! I do love a good ball!", are a reference to the 1995 mini-series "Pride and Prejudice," in which Lydia Bennet says something similar, IIRC. It's not an exact quotation, but a paraphrase of something I remember, as I could not find the exact quotation anywhere. Lydia Bennet is a silly girl, and her personality might provide some clues about the Lydia in my story, although the Lydia in my story, while a bit giddy, is not nearly as much so as Lydia Bennet.



I know that I've had everyone refer to Lydia as "Miss Kennedy" in this story so far, and that, in this chapter, the Duke of Markham calls her "Miss Lydia." I thought that he would address her more intimately than others would since he is courting her.

I'm not sure if I portrayed the proper forms of address, speech, and social scene correctly. If there are any glaring errors, please point them out to me so that I can correct them.

Also, please, please, please leave me a review! I have no idea what to think of my story without your input! It will be very much appreciated!


	6. Who Are the Garrisonians?

_**Disclaimer: **_None of the characters from _Horatio Hornblower _belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter Six: Who Are the Garrisonians?  
**

When Archie entered the room that his two best friends shared at the Twins the next morning, they were finishing the last vestiges of their breakfast. Horatio lounged on his bed, his legs stretched out languidly in front of him, as he sipped a glass of water that he held in his left hand and a plate lay long forgotten in his right one. His eyes were glazed over, as if his mind were far away from the scene. William sat at the desk, and his glass of water was empty. Nevertheless, the last few bites of an egg still lingered on his plate, which his fork hit with a silvery _clang! _as he rushed to eat the rest of his food so that the three of them could be on their way.

"How are you this morning, William?" Archie asked him. He glanced over at Horatio and saw that he still gazed into oblivion.

William's nod was cursory. "Well, thank you, Archie." He lowered his voice. "But I'm not so sure about--" He left the sentence hanging in the air. He directed his eyes briefly at Horatio before turning them upon Archie once more.

Archie tried his best to put on a countenance of strong resolve. "I understand what you mean, William," he replied in an undertone. Then, raising his voice, he called to Horatio, who seemed to be startled into senselessness by the sound of his name.

"Yes, what is it?" he slurred, but then his eyes widened with comprehension. "Oh, hello, Archie. I'm sorry, I must have not seen you come in."

"It's all right, Horatio," Archie replied. "I believe that we need to pay another visit to Mr. Haze. I would like to go before we meet with Miss Sanders."

"Miss Sanders--?" Horatio's voice was filled with confusion.

"Archie told us about her, if you recall," William interrupted. "We wanted to see her for ourselves."

Horatio's eyes brightened momentarily. "Ah, yes, I remember! Archie couldn't wait to tumble to the ground with her. Isn't that right?"

Archie blushed. He did not like being a figure of Horatio's fun, but he was glad that Horatio had found something to be animated about. He chose to ignore the comment.

"And we need to ask Mr. Haze about those Garrisonians," Archie said.

"Quite right!" Horatio exclaimed. "Well, I am ready to leave. William?" William merely nodded in the affirmative. "Then let us go meet with Mr. Haze."

When they arrived at the accounting office, they found the sign hanging outside of the building totally changed. It no longer advertised the services of Obadiah Prescott. Rather, it simply read: RICHARD HAZE, ACCOUNTANT. It was more ornate than the nameplate which had formerly adorned the building, for it contained a curlicued border. Horatio raised his eyebrows at the alteration but said nothing. After all, even he knew that things must change. Still, Archie thought that it seemed a slight to dispose of the old sign the day after Mr. Haze had found out about his inheritance. It was almost too perfect . . . almost as if Mr. Haze himself could've been a part of Obadiah Prescott's death in some way. But Archie dismissed the latter thought quickly, for Mr. Haze seemed to be of the wrong sort of temperament to be driven to murder. Then again, one could never tell who was and wasn't a killer.

Horatio paused before the door and cleared his throat nervously before pushing it open. More forcefully than he'd intended, or so Archie judged by the look on Horatio's face. William appeared apprehensive as well. Archie came to the realization that he might be the one who conversed the most with Richard Haze today.

Mr. Haze, who had been bent over his papers and tugging at the ring of hair on his forehead, jerked his head up at the loud noise. When he saw who his visitors were, he smiled; it was a smile that Archie could tell was forced. "Good morning, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush!" There was a false note of enthusiasm in Mr. Haze's voice. "And Mr.--I believe that we have not yet been formally, introduced, sir." This last comment was directed at Archie.

"Mr. Haze, this is Lieutenant--" Horatio began hastily, but the rest the words somehow got caught in his throat. Archie knew this tic of Horatio's well. The room was filled with a tense awkwardness for a moment, then Archie decided to come to Horatio's rescue.

"Kennedy, sir," he said.

"I am pleased to meet you, Mr. Kennedy. And you already know that I am Richard Haze?"

"Yes, sir, Mr. Haze. I am equally pleased to meet you, sir," Archie replied with what he thought was a statement of solid truth. Mr. Haze did not seem in the least pleased to see him, and Archie felt the same way about Mr. Haze. There was something suspicious, something shady about the man. He felt an instinctive aversion toward the accountant, and he was not sure why.

"Well, what can I assist you with, sirs?" Mr. Haze inquired. Archie noticed that he pulled out a blank sheet of paper and placed it over the work that was on his desk. It was done so swiftly that someone without a quick eye would've missed it.

"Well, Mr. Haze, ha-hmm . . ." Horatio said feebly. William glanced at Archie with a question on his face; Archie answered him by turning his attention back to Mr. Haze.

"Mr. Haze, we have a question about the accounts that Mr. Prescott left for Horatio--Mr. Hornblower," Archie explained.

Mr. Haze raised his eyebrows. "Yes?"

Archie extended his hand to William, who held the sheaf of papers. William gave them to Archie, and Archie carried them to Mr. Haze's desk.

"There is one entry here that is puzzling . . . where is it? . . . " Archie breathed.

"Won't you sit down, Mr. Kennedy?" Mr. Haze gestured at the chair in front of his desk. Archie followed his suggestion mechanically. He continued to rifle through the pages until he came to what he was looking for.

"This--" Archie began before stopping for a minute to gather his words. "This entry. It is odd." He inwardly groaned because his voice had come out sounding somewhat stilted.

Mr. Haze's eyebrows climbed a few inches. "What do you find odd about it, Mr. Kennedy?"

"It--" _Isn't it obvious?_ He thought. But maybe it wasn't so. Then again, perhaps Mr. Haze was trying to convince him to abandon his present inquiry. "The note with it.--Do you not find it a bit frightening?"

Mr. Haze glanced at the name once more. "Oh, that one!" he exclaimed, flustered. Archie thought it seemed like an act. Mr. Haze's eyes moved as he read the entry. "Well, he must've found a way to do it," he concluded.

"Why--why do you say that? Perhaps--perhaps he _didn't_." Archie's proposition floated in the air ominously.

"Well, Mr. Kennedy, whatever it is, I don't know anything about it," Mr. Haze replied curtly. Archie was now at a loss.

"Mr. Haze," Horatio suddenly said from behind him. "Do you know who Patrick Garrison is? Have you ever met him? What sort of a man is he?"

"I don't know, Mr. Hornblower." Mr. Haze's tone was gentler than it had been with Archie. "I've never met the man in my life."

"But did you not see all of my uncle's clients when they came in here?"

Mr. Haze shrugged. "Mr. Prescott usually stayed later than I. Besides, I may have seen him without knowing who he was."

Horatio nodded. "Thank you, Mr. Haze."

"Have you ever heard of Mr. Prescott?" William interjected. It seemed that Archie's talk with Mr. Haze, despite its awkwardness, had brought confidence to his friends. Archie was grateful for that; it gave him a warm feeling. "Did Mr. Prescott ever speak to you of him? Or is he well-known in London?"

Mr. Haze shook his head. "I'm afraid that Mr. Prescott never discussed Mr. Garrison's accounts with me, Mr. Bush. And I've never heard him mentioned in London."

"But then who are these Garrisonians?" Horatio continued the line of inquiry. "Surely someone in London must know of them."

"No doubt someone does. But I do not, unfortunately." Mr. Haze appeared ill at ease.

"I thank you again, Mr. Haze. Good day to you."

"And good day to you, Mr. Hornblower. And you as well, Mr. Kennedy, Mr. Bush."

"What do you think?" Horatio asked them when they were outside. They directed their steps toward London Bridge.

"I think that he was prevaricating," Archie responded. "He knows something, but he won't tell us what it is."

"I think that he's afraid," William said quietly.

"Afraid of what?" Archie replied in irritation. "What would anyone do to him?"

"What they did to my uncle," Horatio murmured.

"But Mr. Haze does not work with their accounts. They do not have any contact with Mr. Haze. At least, according to him."

"Perhaps they are watching him."

"Or maybe he is part of this Garrisonian conspiracy," Archie hypothesized. "He was hiding something."

"But what could he possibly have to hide?"

"Did you see those papers on his desk?"

"What papers? You were at his desk; did you see what they said?"

Archie shook his head. "No. And that was because he'd covered them up."

"That _is_ rather odd."

"I do not think that Mr. Haze is a threat," William interjected. "I think that he is just scared, as I said. I believe--I believe that we are dealing with a dangerous group in the Garrisonians."

"But how could they be so dangerous if no one's heard of them?"

"Sometimes the most frightening forces are those that are unknown. Besides, we don't know that no one's heard of them. We should ask someone other than Mr. Haze."

"I believe that you are right, William."

When they arrived at the bridge, Betsy Sanders was already there, waiting for him. Her eyes widened in surprise when she saw Archie's companions.

"Miss Sanders, these are my friends Captain Hornblower, Lieutenant Bush," Archie told her. Horatio's bearing was much too stiff . . . he needed to relax.

"How do you do, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush?" she asked quietly.

"We are well, thank you," Horatio answered in a strained voice.

"Would you like to join us for a meal?" Archie inquired. Horatio seemed horrified by the suggestion, but William was inscrutable.

"I believe that I will, thank you, Mr. Kennedy."

"My father would be livid if he knew that I was speaking to three officers of the navy right now," Miss Sanders said as they walked toward the inn.

"Why is that, Miss Sanders?"

"It is almost as if I am the town strumpet!" she replied in a joking tone. Horatio looked shocked. It was evident that William wanted to dissolve into raucous laughter, but he held it back and merely smiled. Miss Sanders glanced at her three companions, then appeared embarrassed. "Really--it's just that he hates the Navy."

"Hates the Navy!" Horatio cried, his emotion erasing timidity from his mind. "But how could he hate the force which defends our glorious nation?"

She shrugged. "I don't know. It's just what he says."

"Is he--is he one of these pacifists that I hear about?" William ventured with hesitation.

Miss Sanders giggled. "I would hardly say that. Although . . . in a way . . . I do think so."

"What do you mean, Miss Sanders?" Archie asked.

"I do not think that he shuns violence. But he despises war. That is what our religion says."

"Where does it say in the Bible that men are not allowed to war?!" Horatio objected vehemently.

"But isn't that the definition of a pacifist?" Archie said, his words overlapping Horatio's outburst. "Opposition to war?"

Miss Sanders appeared lost in thought. "I do not know. I do not think I have ever properly understood what a pacifist is. I've always thought of them as some sort of lunatic fringe, to be honest. The sort of people who belong in Bedlam."

Horatio looked as if he wanted to laugh at Miss Sanders's ignorance, but he retained control over himself.

"What is your religion, Miss Sanders?" William asked. Archie was not sure why William would posit such a question. Didn't everyone have the same religion? But perhaps he wanted to know which sect she belonged to.

"I cannot say, Mr. Bush."

"You mean you do not know?" William responded, puzzled.

"No, Mr. Bush. I mean, I cannot utter the name of it. It is sacrosanct."

"Sounds like one of those 'lunatic fringes,'" Horatio whispered to William, who gasped for a split second in amusement. Archie hoped that Miss Sanders had not heard the remark. He studied her face for any sign that she acknowledged Horatio's words, but he saw nothing, much to his relief. She was staring at the ground, however. That infernal habit irked him to no end.

"I hear that Archie saved your life," Horatio said once they were in the common room of the Twins and had food set in front of them.

"Yes, . . . I suppose that he did," Miss Sanders replied. "But did he tell you that I saw him earlier that day?"

"No, indeed." Horatio appeared curious. Archie clenched his teeth in agitation, for he knew what was coming.

"Well, he was eating a pear, or some such fruit, and there was juice all over his chin! And his eyes were closed! It looked odd, to say the least."

Horatio smiled, and William, who could no longer contain himself, burst into a fit of laughter.

"I never knew that you were a pear-man, Archie!" Horatio commented. Archie did not want to think about the connotations of that jest.

"Yes.--I am surprised to hear that you find the embrace of the fruit. . . shall we say. . . tender?" William gave Miss Sanders a fleeting look, then lowered his eyes in embarrassment. Contrary to Archie's expectations, however, Miss Sanders was grinning. But she soon directed her eyes downward again, and Archie felt exasperated.

The rest of the meal progressed slowly. When Miss Sanders stood up to leave, Archie expressed his desire to meet with her again sometime, and she assented, saying that she would come to the inn to find them when she had the time.

"She is a rather strange girl," William observed once Miss Sanders was gone.

"Yes. I find it hard to comprehend her," Horatio agreed.

And Archie thought that they were right.

* * *

_**Author's Notes**_: Sorry that it's been so long since I've last updated! I can't guarantee that I can update as often as I'd like, because I will continue to be very busy in the coming months, but I'll try my best. I'm going to attempt to make sure that I finish this story, even if I update it irregularly, and even if it takes a while.

I hope that this chapter was satisfactory. As always, thank you very much for reading! I appreciate it very much! Please leave me a comment and let me know what you think of my work! And thanks to those of you who've left me reviews!


	7. A Most Unusual Girl

_**Disclaimer: **_The characters from _Horatio Hornblower _do not belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter Seven: A Most Unusual Girl**

William was nervous about having dinner with the Kennedys once again; he was afraid of how the family would receive him after the blunders of his last visit. He could tell that Horatio did not relish the upcoming evening, either, though for very different reasons--he felt that the evening would be spent in a more productive manner if they pondered the next move in their investigation of the murder of Obadiah Prescott. Despite himself, however, Horatio was moderately excited about it as well, William knew; he was glad to have another opportunity to play whist with a man as skilled as Jonathan Kennedy.

This time, Horatio and he hired a carriage and rode toward the Kennedys' house alone, not speaking much along the way. William wondered whether the Kennedys would be even more leery of him now that their younger daughter would be dining with them.

The footman greeted them politely when they arrived and showed them to the parlor.

"It's so nice to see you two again, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush!" Lady Kennedy greeted them in a voice that sounded falsely enthusiastic. William glanced around the room to take in his surroundings; the expensiveness of everything once again made him feel awkward. Jonathan Kennedy was standing inconspicuously in a corner, and Lord and Lydia Kennedy flanked Lady Kennedy on each side.

"Good evening, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush," Lord Kennedy spoke in a much more neutral tone than his wife did. "This is my daughter, Lydia," he said, gesturing at her as he did so.

"Pleased to meet you, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush," Miss Kennedy uttered as she curtsied.

"And I you, Miss Kennedy," Horatio replied as he flashed her his most ingratiating smile. Only William knew of the strain behind that smile.

"I am pleased to meet you as well, Miss Kennedy," William echoed, examining her thoroughly for the first time. No doubt about it, she was a pretty girl, and that bright blue dress flattered her and matched her eyes. A blue ribbon held her up her hair, which seemed to sparkle as much as her grin. But that was all she was--a noble, pretty girl, and a silly one at that, as her behavior at the inn had shown.

"William, Horatio!" someone suddenly shouted from behind them. Horatio and William turned around to see Archie, red-faced from exertion. William wondered where he had been and what he had been doing.

"I am glad to see that you have found it fit to join us, Archie," Jonathan intoned coldly from his corner.

"Of course, Jonathan," Archie responded in a puzzled tone.

"Well, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush, I have been informed that our meal is now ready," Lady Kennedy enunciated. "Would you care to follow me to the dining room?"

"Yes, thank you," Horatio answered as everyone turned to follow Lady Kennedy.

"Can't you behave a little nicer, Jonathan?" William heard Lydia Kennedy whisper to her brother behind him. He glanced at the faces of everyone else and concluded that only he and Jonathan Kennedy had heard Miss Kennedy's remark.

"As if you have the right to reproach me," Mr. Kennedy muttered.

"But you surely do not wish to embarrass us in front of our guests?" Miss Kennedy whispered back.

"I could care less about such men--"

"Jonathan!"

"--although I must say that I do enjoy Mr. Hornblower's company."

"Hmph!"

At the table, William was seated between Archie and Horatio and across from Miss Kennedy. He could not have found himself in a worse spot. Suddenly, he felt even more self-conscious than he already had, for Miss Kennedy would notice any blunder, no matter how small, that he made. Not that it should matter, he told himself.

"How have you been since we've last seen you, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush?" Lady Kennedy asked as they delved into their first course.

"We've been well, thank you," Horatio replied. William knew it was a lie, and he tried to ascertain Archie's reaction from the corner of his eye. If Archie disapproved of Horatio's words, it did not show on his face.

"Will you attend the Duke of Markham's ball?" Miss Kennedy inquired. "I know that you two have been invited. And I must say that I very much would like you to come."

Lord and Lady Kennedy shot their daughter perturbed glances which they quickly erased. William understood their annoyance: Miss Kennedy has been too forward in her words.

"We will be honored to do so, Miss Kennedy," Horatio said in a stiffly formal voice.

"And you, Mr. Bush?" Miss Kennedy pressed him.

It was too much to have her artless eyes on him. He wished that she would not gaze at him so intently. "I plan to make an appearance there as well, Miss Kennedy." William weighed his words carefully, but he still wasn't sure if he'd replied appropriately.

Miss Kennedy's grin widened. "Then I look forward to seeing you there, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush! I am sure that it will be a delightful evening! Everyone will be there!" That was certainly not William's definition of a delightful evening. He wondered if he could pretend to be ill and miss the ball.

"And there will be a very special announcement!" Lady Kennedy tittered.

"Mama!" Miss Kennedy exclaimed.

"I hope to soon count His Grace as part of my family!" Lady Kennedy bubbled. William directed his eyes back upon Miss Kennedy in time to catch the reddening of her cheeks.

"No one is supposed to know about that yet, Mother," Jonathan said in rebuke.

Now Lady Kennedy blushed. "Oh, but you are right, of course, Jonathan, dear! I hope I can count on your discretion, Mr. Hornblower, Mr. Bush?"

"Yes, my lady," Horatio replied. "And you have my congratulations, Miss Kennedy."

"Thank you, Mr. Hornblower."

"And you have mine as well, Miss Kennedy," William said, bowing his head slightly to her.

"I thank you, Mr. Bush." Did he detect a note of wistfulness in her eyes before she'd turned them downward?

When Miss Kennedy brought her eyes back up, they were a complete mask; William could detect nothing in them--they seemed lifeless. And then they took on a snooty, superior sort of look before they were directed right at him. He felt himself turn a bright crimson, but no one seemed to notice any change in his countenance. William decided that it would be best to put Miss Lydia Kennedy out of his mind, and he concentrated all of his attention upon finishing the remnants of his plate. He was reminded of her appearance at the inn; the way she'd wrinkled her nose at him in--was it disgust? Not that it mattered, he told himself once again; he needed to put her out of his mind. She was of no importance to him whatsoever, and if she wanted to look at him in disgust, it was her right to do so as a member of the upper classes.

He told himself that his discomfort with her countenance stemmed from the fact that he wasn't used to such things at sea, that he'd never had to deal with females of the higher sort in his life.

The maidservant carried in a roasted turkey and set it in the center of the table before switching their dirty dishes for clean ones. Lady Kennedy glanced at the turkey then at her eldest son.

"Would you do us the honor of carving it, Jonathan?"

"Gladly, Mother."

As he carved the turkey, Jonathan Kennedy stared at William as if to say, "this is how it's correctly done, you wretched fool." William heard Horatio ask Archie what kind of meat was in front of them in an undertone, and Archie's whispered reply. Luckily, no one else had heard. He saw Miss Kennedy's eyes run from Mr. Kennedy to himself in confusion.

"This turkey comes highly recommended from a good friend of mine, Lord Deal," Lord Kennedy explained as Jonathan completed his task.

"From whence does it come, milord?" Horatio asked. William was afraid that Lord Kennedy would find Horatio's question dumb, but it appeared that Horatio had said the right thing, for Lord Kennedy appeared only too delighted to continue speaking of turkeys.

"They are found all over the world, I am told," Lord Kennedy expounded. "Especially in the Americas. I am told that it is a luxury food in the United States."

"And here, too, I am sure," Archie interjected.

"Yes, indeed."

William did not know what to think of Lord Kennedy's lesson. He did not know much about turkeys himself, but neither did Lord Kennedy, it seemed.

William seized his fork so that he could attack his portion once it was on his plate. He could still sense Miss Kennedy's eyes on him, and their effect only exacerbated the longer he felt them. His hand shook, and the clatter that the fork made as it struck the plate resounded in his ears. He glanced up sharply; no one had heard the noise but him. And Miss Kennedy was not even looking at him; all of her attention was upon her food. William felt sheepish. Now, he resolved to put Miss Kennedy out of his mind once and for all. But his hand still wavered, and when he next ventured to pick a slice of turkey off of his plate, he wound up knocking several pieces to the floor and dropping his fork.

"My apologies, my lady, milord, Mr. Kennedy, Miss Kennedy," William slurred before he darted under the table to clean up the mess he had made.

"Allow me to assist you, Mr. Bush," Miss Kennedy offered. And she was beside him before he could object.

"Lydia!" Lady Kennedy hissed.

After a couple of minutes, William and Miss Kennedy had gathered all of the slices of turkey, but he still could not find his fork. His eyes swept the floor frantically, but in vain.

"Here you are, Mr. Bush," Miss Kennedy proclaimed, holding out the fork to him. As he pried the fork from her hand, their fingers touched briefly, and they both paused, stunned. But then William regained his composure, and time moved forward. She examined him for one disconcerting second before returning to the table.

She was an unusual girl, William reflected.

Perhaps that was why he had been so ill at ease--she was strange; that was all.

"I believe that it is time for us to have some dessert!" Lady Kennedy exclaimed when William was seated once more.

The last portion of the meal proceeded in relative calm, and the party retired to the parlor afterward.

"Would anyone care to join me in a game of whist?" Mr. Kennedy inquired.

"Most gladly," Horatio answered, and William could tell that he meant it. Lord Kennedy answered in the affirmative.

"I would like to play," Miss Kennedy asserted.

Mr. Kennedy looked askance at his sister. "Whist is not a game for the fairer sex," he admonished her.

"Then I will make your fourth," Archie said.

"And I must be content to watch," Miss Kennedy sighed as she took a seat near William and her mother.

"Do you play whist at all, Mr. Bush?" Miss Kennedy asked.

William shook his head. "No, Miss Kennedy; I am afraid that I do not have much skill at card games."

"Well, _I _play whist very well. Perhaps that is why Jonathan would not let me join him. He is afraid that I will best him, I suppose." The last sentence was uttered as she directed a disdainful glance at her brother. William doubted that she told the truth; from what he'd seen of her so far, she was rather silly overall--but not totally so, he corrected himself. She was more than that, though he couldn't pinpoint it yet.

"But Jonathan is right, Lydia, dear," Lady Kennedy said. "Whist is _not _a game for ladies. I wish that he had not taught it to you at all."

"Is Mr. Kennedy an avid player of whist, then?" William knew that it was a lame attempt to make conversation.

"Oh, yes, very, Mr. Bush. Although I believe that he is a bit _too _avid."

An awkward silence ensued.

"Mr. Bush, am I right in assuming that you met my brother while serving on the _Renown_?" Miss Kennedy said suddenly. It was a poor attempt at breaking the silence, but William understood the motive behind it, so he smiled.

"Yes, Miss Kennedy, I did indeed. I met Mr. Hornblower while on the _Renown _as well."

"Mr. Hornblower," Miss Kennedy mused to herself. "Was he not your junior on the _Renown_?"

"Yes," William answered uncomfortably.

"Then . . . " she thought aloud. " . . . am I right in assuming that . . . well . . . " She blushed. "I am not sure how to phrase what I mean, or if I am correct . . . but, should not you have been promoted before Mr. Hornblower?" Lady Kennedy directed a disbelieving glance at her daughter.

William cleared his throat. "That is how it is normally done, yes. But I do not mind. Mr. Hornblower was a fine lieutenant and will make an excellent captain." He told himself that he should not mind her insensitive question; she probably knew no better, and besides, she was foolish, and indiscreet. Though perhaps the latter came from her mother? Yes, Lady Kennedy was certainly indiscreet, though she'd learned to restrain it, for the most part.

Realization must've dawned on Miss Kennedy, for she now appeared exceedingly embarrassed. He thought he saw tears start to her eyes, but if they had been there, they were quickly suppressed. He hoped he'd done nothing amiss to prompt that and that she had indeed come to her conclusions on her own.

"Do you read very much, Mr. Bush?" It was an awkward attempt to change the subject at hand, but William appreciated it, nevertheless.

"No, I am afraid not, Miss Kennedy. I have had very little time to do so while at sea. I daresay I might read more often now that we are no longer at war."

"I myself enjoy novels, Mr. Bush."

"Novels?" William raised an eyebrow. He'd heard nothing but scorn for these "novels." But he wasn't surprised at Miss Kennedy's taste.

"Yes, although Mama tells me that she finds them improper."

"They _are_, Lydia! Mr. Bush, you do not know anything of the scandalous content of some of the books I find in my daughter's hands! A lady finds herself alone in a house full of untrustworthy people. Just imagine! And sometimes a girl even finds herself pregnant and unmarried!"

William had vaguely heard of such novels. He believed that the term for them was "Gothic."

"They are not as bad as that, Mama! But I do adore my novels, Mr. Bush. I trust that they are the closest that I ever will come to having an adventure."

"And I am glad of that. You have no business encountering any of those appalling 'adventures.' Truth to tell, Lydia, I thought you had overcome that curious little predilection of yours."

"No doubt I will before I am wed, Mama." But there was that wistful look in her eyes again. She turned her attention to the whist game, the players of which were becoming more and more excitable. "It is close, but I believe that the next trick will be Mr. Hornblower's," Miss Kennedy informed them.

And she was right. Archie, who had been partnered with him, gave Horatio a stunned look. "And I thought we'd been done for!" Horatio grinned back at him. William supposed that Miss Kennedy was better at whist than he'd thought.

He glanced at the clock to see that it was late. Horatio noticed as well and looked at him meaningfully.

"I am afraid that we must leave before the hour becomes too late," Horatio told everyone. "It has been a pleasure once again."

"I have found it a pleasure as well," Mr. Kennedy replied. "You are a most excellent whist player, Mr. Hornblower."

"As are you, Mr. Kennedy."

William said good-bye to Miss Kennedy last of all. Her smile was sincere, which puzzled William to no end. And there was a new glint in her eyes--warmth. He endeavored to return the sentiment.

No doubt about it. Miss Kennedy was a most unusual girl.

A _most _unusual girl.

000000000000000000000000000000

Archie was restless; he could not sleep. He had lain in bed for hours, but he was still awake. He decided that his time might be better spent reading a book in the parlor.

To his surprise, when he entered the parlor, he found Lydia there with a book in hand and a candle beside her.

"What are you doing here, Lydia?" he asked.

She appeared startled by his voice. "I could not sleep. And you?"

He nodded. "The same." He found a book on the shelf, lit a candle, and sat down.

"Archie." Lydia interrupted his reading suddenly. "May I ask you a question? About your time on the _Renown_?"

Archie was wary of what she would say. "Certainly." There was something haunting about her widened eyes; Archie told himself that it was merely the darkness surrounding her which made it seem so.

"What--" she swallowed. "what exactly happened to you on the _Renown_? To Mr. Hornblower? And--and Mr. Bush?"

Archie wrinkled his forehead in confusion. "Whatever do you mean, Lydia?"

"Well--" she paused to think. "You hinted at some unusual occurrence in your letters, though you refused to name it. And when I spoke with Mr. Bush earlier--I thought I saw something. He flinched, I think, when I mentioned the _Renown_."

Lydia's insensitive words angered him. How dare she! What had she done to upset William? How dare she ask William about the _Renown_! "I hope you did not try to talk to William about the matter!" he rebuked her sharply.

Tears filled her eyes as she clutched her book to her chest. "No! I would never!" she whispered between sobs. "What kind of a fool do you think I am?!"

"None, Lydia," he said softly. He hoped his voice sounded gentler now.

"I only--I was only curious," she gasped. "I thought . . . oh, it doesn't matter what I thought!" she wailed as she turned and left the parlor.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_ I wrote this chapter from Bush's point of view because I plan to do so in some later chapters. Besides, Archie would've missed much of the interplay between Bush and Lydia. And I've already written a meal at the Kennedys' from Archie's point of view. I found this chapter pretty difficult to write, so I hope it turned out okay!

I will be moving during the next couple of months, so I may not be able to update as often as I'd like, but I really, really want to write the next chapter. I'll see what happens, I guess.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thanks for reading! And please leave a review and let me know what you think!


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